#its not nearly as bad as it was yesterday though so small blessings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stormcrawler75 · 4 years

Note

Bad Things Bingo request: Memory Loss with the Sides as a pantheon of gods.

Warnings: Memory Lost, description of scars, Virgil not having a good view of how he looks.

Notes: Dude, guys, I accidentally deleted the last few paragraphs and had to rewrite them. I finished this tonight out of spite.

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Virgil fucking hated snow.

There was no good thing about snow. Not one damn thing and Virgil was willing to stake his life on that claim. In fact, every good thing about Virgil’s life slowed to a stop when fall ended and the snow started to fall. Snow was cold, killed all of the crops that Virgil spent all year growing, and made travel into town a damn bitch. And, on top of everything else, it made the scars surrounding Virgil’s eyes and temples ache to no end. The only thing that helped with the aches and pains was the medicine that his friend Elliott sold. And where did Elliott sell the medicine?

All the way in town. So, yeah, Virgil hated snow.

He sighed as he climbed out of his bed, the cold from outside seeping into his bones. Virgil’s home was a small one-bedroom house with a small fireplace, a bed that he had pressed against two walls, small knickknacks and gifts placed on shelves that Virgil had built himself, and a small rug in front of the door to the outside. The fire that he had built the night before had gone out, with only glowing embers left in Virgil’s tiny fireplace now. The bowl with half of Virgil’s leftover dinner was left beside his bed, which Virgil immediately grab to slowly pick at.

Virgil glanced over at a small mirror on the wall that Elliott had given him, gently wiping at his eyes and trying his best to avoid his scars. There were deep and rough scars around Virgil’s eyes - as if someone had tried carving them out with a knife but never truly committed to the idea - and two identical thin, deep scars on each of his temples. Virgil’s nose was crooked like it had been broken many times before and one of his eyes didn’t open all the way. He wasn’t the prettiest man ever but, as Elliott had once said, he was just lucky to still be alive. Not that Virgil cared about the scars or how he looked. He honestly just wished that he remembered how he got the damn scars.

Or any part of his life before waking up in the town’s local Doctor’s office. He had woken up nearly five years ago with no memory. Elliott had found him on the outskirts of town, caught in a bright bronze net and left for dead, and had immediately brought him to the town’s Doctor. The town had been gracious enough to provide Virgil with a small house and some land to make a living off of. Virgil had been given far, far more than a poor, ugly man like him ever deserved and he had tried his best to pay the town back ever since. He gave deals to the town folks on his carrots and beets, he did odd jobs in the winter for half the price he charged for out of towners, and when the town announced that they would be making a temple for the God of Family and Safe Havens, Virgil went out and chopped down as many of his own trees that they would need.

Even if Virgil wasn’t sure what he thought about these Gods, he would give everything and anything to the people who had given him a home, their food, and the clothes off their back.

Though, it wasn’t like what he gave was anything special. Though the farmwork he did was hard and backbreaking, the corps flourished under Virgil’s hands. It wasn’t like he ever did anything special. He just did what every other farmer did. Maybe it was just that Virgil did what he loved. Waking up early and going out to work with his vegetables and his two little fruit trees were hard but Virgil loved it so much that anyone who happened to walk onto his land had a good chance of hearing him sing as he worked. As long as what he did made the town happy, Virgil was happy.

Virgil was startled from his thoughts from banging on his door, the excited voice of his best friend calling from outside, “Virgil! Virgil, wake up, wake up!” Virgil yawned shuffled over to the door, opening it with a tired smile. “Hey, Elli. What’s up?”

Elliott beamed at him and surged forward, grabbing Virgil’s arms and making him shiver from the snow and frost on their mittens. “It’s finished! The builders, you know the ones who said that they wouldn’t be able to finish until Spring? The mayor paid them double and they finished! The Temple is opening up tonight and they’re going to be putting out a feast!” They let go of Virgil, stumbling over to the spot on the floor where Virgil’s damp coat, mittens, and gloves had been dumped.

Virgil could only gawk at them, feeling like his brain was having trouble catching up to what Elliott was saying. “It’s finished?! How, when- I haven’t heard anything about the builders starting up again! When did this even happen?!”

“They worked through the night for the last month,” Elliott squealed, practically throwing Virgil’s winter wear at him. “And, dude, I can’t believe I’m even gonna be saying this,” Elliott took Virgil’s hands and said with forced calmness, “the God Patton himself might actually show up.”

Virgil swore that his heart stopped right then and there. Full on, dead stop. “A God?! What the hell are you talking about?! He’s coming here?!”

“It’s this new thing,” Elliott babbled, gesturing at the clothes in Virgil’s arms frantically until Virgil slowly started pulling them on. “It only started in the last few years and only in this country but, recently, whenever a Temple is built, whichever God the Temple is for shows up! They usually mingle for a bit and insist on looking around. I heard that even the God of Logic and all that other stuff showed up in a town a few days away about a month ago! He blessed the town’s teachers, looked around, and then left. People are thinking that the Gods are looking for something or something and that’s why they’re showing up everywhere!”

“Holy shit,” Virgil whispered, pulling his hat on hurriedly. “Holy shit, are you serious?! That’s fucking - we gotta check it out!” He grabbed his boots and practically jammed them on his feet. “We gotta get going now! If we head out now then we can make it to the town by lunchtime! Wait, no, we gotta get an offering! Do you have something to give him? I killed a deer yesterday and I still have its pelt so I’m covered but what about you!?”

Elliott grinned at him and flashed a bright pink ring on their left hand. “I’m good! My Grandma gave me this ring just in case something like this happened before she died years ago. Now come on! We can wait in my house until tonight but we gotta get going!”

Virgil laughed and grabbed Elliott’s hand, pulling them out of the small cabin. “You better have brought your horse and buggy because if I have to walk through all of this snow, I am going to lose it.”

“Of course I did,” Elliott laughed, climbing into the buggy. “And you know that that you could buy a horse of your own from old man Jerry. After you helped him and his wife with that problem they were having, they’d probably give you one for free!” They eyed Virgil’s rising blush with a grin. “And Miss Kitty would give you three buggies for how you helped her with her girlfriend. Heck, she’d give you a carriage!”

“It’s not my fault that I give good advice,” Virgil muttered, ducking his head and trying to get comfortable in his seat. “Besides, Miss Kitty and Jessica’s problem was easy. They just needed to talk, that’s all. I just pointed it out.” He batted Elliott’s arm when he saw them open their mouth to continue talking and - most definitely - continue talking about how Virgil kept getting when it came to giving advice about people’s love lives. “Shut up and get us to town, Elli!”

He ignored Elliott’s laugh and settled back as the horse started making its way back to town. Elliott was just overexaggerating. It wasn’t like Virgil went out looking for people who needed help with their love lives. Just... whenever Virgil was talking to people, the topic of love happened to come up a lot and people always seemed to ask for his advice. Virgil honestly had no idea if the advice he was giving was good, per se. It was just that Virgil seemed to know what he was talking about. People theorized that Virgil had been a Matchmaker before he had come to live here. Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Besides, it wasn’t just romantic things that people came to Virgil to ask advice on. Virgil had helped with the two orphan boys that had come from the city, the year-long fight that two local sisters were having, and a fight between two best friends. It seemed that Virgil was just good with advice. It wasn’t like it was anything special.

“So, all of the Gods have been showing up lately,” Virgil asked Elliott as the buggy went down the dirt road.

Elliott nodded but then paused. “Well, almost all of them. One of them hasn’t shown up recently. The God of Love and Beauty hasn’t appeared in almost five years now.” They shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I mean, I heard that he was super active before so he’s probably just taking a break. I heard that time passes really quickly for the Gods. I’m sure that he’ll be back sometime soon.

“I mean, what’s the other option? I mean, what kind of bad things can happen to a God?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Temple was beautiful.

Virgil knew that it was nothing compared to the Temples in cities or the Capital. He had heard rumours of those Temples being made from solid gold, with sparkling rubies and sapphires embedded in its walls, and rich offerings given by Kings and Queens stacked through the halls. Compared to those Temples, this little one was nothing. It was barely as big as the local schoolhouse with one room. From looking through the front window, Virgil thought that it looked more like a very cozy and comfortable family room than anything. There was a beautiful fireplace roaring with fire, beds pushed up against the walls, and food stacked on the table. Virgil’s offering of a deer’s pelt was lying on a table along with several others.

“I can’t believe that this is the new Temple,” Virgil whispered to Elliott, both of their eyes wide with wonder. The two of them were at the front of a large crowd in front of the Temple, waiting for entrance. This whole thing was so exciting that Virgil was barely aware of the dull sting from the wind hitting his scars. “I mean, it’s great but it’s... not what I thought it’d look like.” While it might not be what they were expecting, it was still the most wonderful place that either of them had ever seen.

Elliott grinned at him, bouncing up and down in excitement. “Me neither but this is the God of Family and Safe Havens. I bet that this Temple would look a lot different if this was a Temple for the God of Beauty and Love or for the God of Self Preservation. I hear that the God Patton lets people use his Temples as Safe Havens, just like the God Janus.” They gasped when a soft, warm blue light glowed from the inside of the house, bathing everything inside with its light. “Oh my gosh,” they whispered, gripping Virgil’s arm tightly. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this! He’s actually coming, he’s actually showing up!”

The crowd of people immediately quieted and no one made a single sound. Virgil could’ve dropped a pin and it would’ve been the loudest sound in the entire town. Slowly, the light coming from the Temple died down. Though, and maybe this was just Virgil seeing things, the inside of the Temple seemed warmer somehow. It seemed homier. And the large man standing in the, just minutes before empty, Temple seemed completely right there.

Virgil watched through the front window with wide eyes as the man slowly looked around. He was huge, almost six feet, with curly blond hair and big round glasses that were perched on top of a small bottom nose, covering big blue eyes. There were freckles on each and every inch of the man’s skin and there were laugh lines around his eyes. He was wearing comfortable clothes and had the air of a person that you could trust. The kind of person that you would run to if you had a problem or no one else you could turn to. He looked... like a Dad.

He looked familiar.

The God slowly walked through the Temple with a small smile, gently touching the walls and taking a minute to look at the food. Virgil watched him kneel by the fireplace and gently stroke it for a few seconds, glowing embers jumping from the fire and onto the God’s skin only for the God to brush them from his skin with no sign of injury. And Virgil watched as, slowly, the God stood and made his way to the door leading outside to the crowd waiting outside.

Virgil hurried to kneel with the rest of the town, breath catching at the God stepped outside. Most, including Elliott, had their heads bowed respectfully but Virgil could only gawk dumbly as the God looked out at them with a smile. For almost a second there, it looked like he was looking for something and he had to hold back his disappointment when he didn’t find it. But he kept a smile firmly on his face as he went back to looking through the crowd. He had just opened his mouth to say something when his gaze landed on Virgil’s ugly scarred face. Virgil felt a pit of terror settle into him as the God’s face went from gratitude and forced happiness to an expression that Virgil didn’t have the time to fully understand at before the God was almost running at him.

“Vergilius!”

The crowd scrambled away from Virgil, Elliott being pulled from him from someone, and Virgil felt frozen as the God landed in front of him. Distantly, in the back of Virgil’s mind, he remembered a mean rumour that had circulated when Virgil had first been found. That Virgil had somehow offended a God and, in punishment, the Gods had scarred him and stolen his memory. Virgil had never believed these rumours but now, Virgil thought that it might be true. And if they had stolen Virgil’s memory the first time, Virgil found that he was utterly terrified to discover what they might take this time.

Virgil jumped as large, calloused but gentle hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up so he was staring right in the watery eyes of the God of Family and Safe Havens. The God’s glasses were slightly crooked and had slid down right down to the edge of his nose. Tears were making their way down his cheeks and the God’s lips were turned up in a bright, slight disbelieving but so relieved grin. The God was rubbing a thumb into Virgil’s cheek gently while the other was hovering frantically around Virgil like it didn’t know where exactly it should settle. “Oh, Vergilius,” the God whispered, voice cracking. “Oh, you’re here. You’re safe.”

“Vergilius?”

“As in the God Vergilius?!”

“The God of Love and Beauty!?”

“Virgil, our Virgil?”

“What is a God doing living in a cabin on the edge of a poor little town?”

“I,” Virgil licked his suddenly dry lips, staring at the God in confusion and a bit of fear, “my name is Virgil. I’m sorry but, I think I you got the wrong person. I’m, I’m not,” his words trailed away from him, not sure what to say. He found himself leaning into the God’s hand and had to jerk away. Had to jerk away from the feeling of ‘finally-I’m-finally-home-I-was-so-scared-but-I’m-home-and-I-was-so-scared-but-I-knew-that-you’d-find-me’.

The God laughed, but it sounded more confused than anything. “Kiddo, Vergilius, what are you talking about? Oh, Sweetheart, what happened?” Virgil’s breath caught as one of the God’s huge fingers gently brushed against one of the scars surrounding his eyes. “Who did this to you,” the God asked, his voice darkening and full of power. He looked up and he seemed like a God for the first time since he had arrived as he demanded, “Did these Mortals do this to you?!”

Almost a full year ago, Elliott had told Virgil that there was a reason that Patton was the God of both Families and Safe Havens. Because no one would dare step into one of the God’s Safe Havens and try to hurt someone who had hidden there. Because those who stayed there were the God’s family and no one would risk Patton’s wrath. Virgil hadn’t been completely convinced if Elliott wasn’t exaggerating back then, of the God’s terrible wrath on those who had hurt those who he had deemed family.

But now, as the ground started to shake and the sun started to burn impossibly bright, Virgil knew that Elliott had been under-exaggerating.

“Wait,” Virgil cried, lurching forward and grabbing Patton’s arm desperately just as the God had started to rise. “Please, don’t hurt them! They saved me, they didn’t hurt me,” he pleaded. “Please, please don’t hurt them, please.”

The God stared down at Virgil, one hand still cupping his cheek. “You’re sure,” he asked softly, the shaking ground slowly calming and the sun’s harsh beams dimming slightly. “Are you sure, Sweetheart? They’ve helped you?”

“They found me in a bronze net,” Virgil babbled, keeping a tight grip on Patton’s arm like he could single-handedly stop the God if he tried anything. “Elliott did. They found me without my memories and brought me to a Doctor and healed me. They gave me a house and land and fruit trees and seeds and they never hurt me, I promise, I swear!” His chest was burning with the love he had for this small town and the people in it and he was honestly afraid that his chest would burst from just how much of it there was.

There was a long pause before the God slowly pulled Virgil up until he was standing, paying attention only to Virgil and giving none of it to the townfolks watching with bated breath. Both of Patton’s hands cupped Virgil’s cheeks and he asked softly, voice almost unhearable, “Do you know who I am, Kiddo? Do you remember me?”

Virgil blinked and the tears that had been building during his frantic plea starting slowly trickling down his face. “You’re Patton,” he whispered softly, “the God of Families and Safe Havens. The Creator of Janus, the God of Self Preservation and, and a lot of other things. The Father of the Council of Gods.” He let out a shaky breath as the God bowed his head, letting his forehead rest on Virgil’s. “Am... am I wrong?”

The God let out a shaky, pained laugh. “No, Kiddo. No, you’re not wrong.” He looked up at the pale, terrified Mayor and gave him a wobbly smile “Thank you for the Temple. It’s beautiful. I love it.” He turned back to Virgil and gently petted his hair. “I need you to come with me, okay Darling? I know this is all probably very scary and overwhelming for you but I need you to be brave, okay?”

“You... you won’t hurt them,” Virgil asked shakily, looking over his shoulder at the townsfolk. Even though they looked terrified, many of them managed to give Virgil weak and encouraging smiles. One of them, an older lady named Miss Julia, looked like the only reason she wasn’t beating Patton away with her cane was her partner, Hannah, gripping onto her arm tightly. “Right? They protected me. You promise you won’t hurt them?”

The God smiled at him gently, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “I promise, Sweetheart.” And, with that, Virgil was pulled into a gentle hug and his face was gently pushed into the God’s shoulder so he couldn’t see what was happening. Virgil was about to pull away, terrified that he’d look back to see that his town had been wiped off the map, but he found himself falling limp into the God’s arm when a warm, safe feeling flooded into him and the ground was whisked out from under him. The harsh winter wind disappeared and, for one brief moment, there was only Virgil and the God.

And then, Virgil stumbled as a floor reappeared under his feet. Even without looking, Virgil knew that it was the most expensive floor that he could remember standing on. It was smooth and felt like it had been freshly waxed. He pulled back away from Patton and looked around, eyes widening. Now, this was a Temple.

They were in a large room that wouldn’t look out of place as a King’s throne room. Nine empty thrones were placed around the room, all of them looking completely different from each other. And, for some reason, Virgil felt drawn toward the smallest, almost dainty looking one on the far left side of the room. Like it was meant to be his.

“Does this room seem similar to you at all,” the God asked gently, keeping one hand on Virgil’s shoulder. He seemed to deflate a little when Virgil shook his head. “Okay, that's okay, Kiddo. Now, I want you to wait here, okay Hon? I’m going to get our friends and we can talk this whole thing out.” He leaned forward and gave Virgil a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving the throne room and leaving Virgil alone.

Virgil swallowed and looked around slowly, trying his best to get his bearings. The room was gorgeous but his eyes kept getting drawn to the small, purple and black throne. It was deceptively dainty looking almost like the throne of a Queen that Virgil had seen once in a book Elliott had given him. But, even from halfway across the room, Virgil could see that the metal was sharp and there were two small, detachable knives on the arms of the throne that would’ve been perfect if the person sitting there suddenly needed something to throw. And there was a power simply radiating from the throne, like if the wrong person sat in it then they’d simply cease to exist.

It was beautiful.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and Virgil spun around, tensing up defensively. The noise was coming from a doorway and Virgil could hear one voice rising above all the others, “You can’t be serious, Patton! He’s been in a dirt poor farm town this entire time?!” There was the soft of Patton answering back, though Virgil couldn’t make out exactly what he said, and the same voice from before snapped back, “No way! Vergilius wouldn’t stay away from us, we’re his family! Whoever you brought back is an imposter, it has to be!”

Virgil stepped forward nervously, walking up to the doorway and standing right beside it but still not be seen. A new voice jumped in, low and suave. “We don’t know that, Roman. We should meet him, just in case it really is Vergilius!”

“But what if this is some evil monster who tries to put us under his spell?!”

“Roman - hes’s not a monster!”

Virgil jumped at a new voice snapped out, “Enough!” Roman, Remus, Emile, Remy, you four stay here. Myself, Patton, and Janus will meet with... whoever Patton has brought here.”

“It’s Vergilius,” Patton cried, sounding close to tears. “Logan, I promise-”

“I know, Patton, I know. We’re just going to check that this is Vergilius for certain, okay Sweetling? And if this truly is Vergilius, we’ll want to make sure that he’s okay first before bombarding him all at once. This is just to be safe.”

“And if this is an imposter, then me and Roman will stab him to death and push him into a vat of boiling poison!”

“For once, I agree with my brother.”

Virgil felt a cold stab of fear before it was overwhelmed with the feeling of hot, harsh anger. He was basically dragged here, taken from his home because apparently, some God thought that he was the God of Love and Beauty - fucking ridiculous - and now some other God decided that if he didn’t look enough like this missing God than they were going to be taking Virgil’s life as punishment. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Before Virgil even knew what he was doing, he was already halfway through the door and spitting out, “Well I fucking don’t!”

The hallway was filled with eight people, all who turned at the sound of Virgil’s voice, but Virgil turned all of his attention to the one with a sword drawn and glaring daggers at Virgil. He didn’t half to be a genius to know that this was the guy who had called him an imposter and jumped right on board with the ‘Killing Virgil’ plan. Virgil decided that he didn’t like this guy.

The guy - he had to be God - puffed up and stalked up to Virgil, baring his teeth at him. “How dare you wear the face of my friend, you imposter!”

“I’m not a fucking imposter and I’m not your fucking friend,” Virgil snapped, planting his feet and glaring up at him. The God glared right back at him with bright red eyes, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles were turning bright white. “So don’t go yelling at me!” He pushed at the God’s sword arm so hard that the God nearly dropped his weapon.

There was a moment of tense silence before one of the others cleared their voice, stepped forward with a raised finger and said, “Just so you all know, I’m on Pattycake’s side. That is definitely Vergilius.” They stepped back with a smirk as the God with the sword turned his glare at him. “Hey, just saying, Roman.”

The God - Roman - huffed and turned his snarl back to Virgil. “I don’t care what you say, Remy. I know Verglius and he wouldn’t hide out in some random town while we’re all looking for him!”

“My name isn’t Vergilius,” Virgil snapped, feeling the urge to stop his foot. “It’s Virgil! I don’t know any of you guys and my name is Virgil!”

Roman spread his arm and nodded firmly. “See!? Even the Mortal agrees! This was just a mistake.” He sheathed his sword and offered Virgil his arm with a sharp smile. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll escort you back to your home and we can go back to looking for the real Vergilius.”

“Wait,” Patton cried, stepping forward and shoving himself between Virgil and Roman. “Roman, I know that this is Vergilius, I just know it! He told me that he had no memories, he told me this! Logan,” he turned to a short man who was staring at Virgil with dark narrowed eyes, “Logan, you believe me, don’t you?”

“...He does bear an uncanny resemblance to Vergilius,” Logan hummed, stroking his chin with thin, boney fingers. “And if he did indeed lose his memories than that would explain why Vergilius never sent word and how he gained those scars. Though, we have had many imposters in the last five years that you were also sure was Vergilius, Patton,” he continued gently.

“It’s Virgil,” Virgil said sharply, straightening up and glaring at the God.

Logan sighed in frustration and opened his mouth but was cut off by that same suave voice from before. “Well, then, there really is a simple way of solving this, isn’t there?” Virgil turned to look at who was talking and froze.

Staring back at him was a man with sharp golden eyes and bright green scales going down the left half of his face, staring down at Virgil with an unreadable expression. He tilted his head and said smoothly with a shrug, “Make him sit in Vergilius’ chair.”

One of the Gods who hadn’t spoken yet - a God who looked very similar to Patton but with bright pink and blue eyes, long brown hair instead of blond, and an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place on a scholar - stepped forward with a frown. “But, Janus, that’s not fair to the Mortal! Patton brought him here, he didn’t come here claiming to be Vergilius! If it turns out that he isn’t Vergilius then the power will overwhelm him and -”

“Wait,” Virgil cried, throwing his hands up in the air. He tilted his chin up and glared at the intimidating God, Janus. “Sitting in that chair will prove whether or not I’m this Vergilius?” Janus had barely nodded before Virgil was turning back to the throne room to sit in the stupid damn chair so he could go back to his farm and sleep until fucking spring.

But Janus’ hand snapped out and grabbed Virgil’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “As a favour to Emile here,” he said, nodding at the God with pink and blue eyes, “I will warn you to what the chair will do if you’re not Vergilius.” His lips quirked up. “Unless you’d like to just charge in and sit in it without knowing.”

Virgil wanted to scream, he really did. He could be told what would happen if he wasn’t Vergilius - which judging from what Emile had been saying was probably nothing good - and lose his nerve. Which might just prove to these Gods that he was an imposter and Virgil would be in for a world of pain. Or he would just go in to sit on the throne and damn the consequences.

Virgil blamed the decision he made next on how angry he currently was. There was no way for any anxiety or common sense to peek out and make Virgil nervous enough to take a second and really think about what he was about to do. Before he could fully think about what he was doing, Virgil ripped his wrist away from the smirking God and turned back to the Throne Room, stomping across the hall and ignoring the calls of Patton and Emile to wait and let them explain first before trying it.

Instead, he hoisted himself upon the Throne and sat back, closing his eyes.

It was the most comfortable chair ever. It was like someone had studied Virgil’s body and had shaped the Throne around him. The pillow on the throne felt like it was stuffed full of duck feathers and was made out of velvet. Velvet. Virgil had never even seen velvet before. It was the most comfortable Throne in the history of Thrones. Virgil didn’t know how he knew that and he wasn’t going to think on too closely.

“Okay, so, I sat in the stupid chair,” Virgil groaned as he leant forward. As sad as he was to get out of the Throne, he really wanted to go home and check-in with the rest of the townsfolk. “Can I go home now?” He froze though when he opened his eyes and saw all eight Gods standing around him and watching him with various expressions on their faces.

“I knew it,” Patton whispered a large grin on his face and tears gathering in his eyes. “I knew it.”

Roman was staring at Virgil in numb shock, tears running down his cheek. “Oh... you’re really him,” he whispered. His hand twitched like he wanted to pull Virgil into a hug but he couldn’t commit to the action. “Vergilius.”

Virgil twitched backward, leaning back into the throne. “No, I told you. My name’s Virgil. I’m not -”

“You are,” Janus said, stepping forward. He was smiling at Virgil with tears in his eyes, looking so happy and relieved. “That throne was made specifically for Vergilius and your atoms would’ve melted if you weren’t truly Vergilius. Even if you don’t remember your life as Vergilius or don’t remember us, you are our Vergilius.” His smile grew into a large grin. “Oh, Dear One, I’m so happy that you’re safe.”

Virgil blinked dumbly, feeling like everything he knew had just been turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore. He didn’t want to believe it. He just wanted to go back home, visit with Elliott, and then sleep in his own bed. He didn’t want to believe it.

But he did.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, tears of confusion pricking at his eyes. “If I... if I really am Vergilius... then what happened? How did... where... What happened?”

Janus pulled Virgil into a tight hug, holding him so tightly like he was terrified that if he let go than Virgil would disappear. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t. But we’re going to find out. And until we do, we’re never going to let something like this happen again. I promise.”

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#Storm Writes #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Tw Memory Loss #tw scars #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Janus Sanders #Roman Sanders #Emile Sanders #Remy Sanders #Elliott (Cartoon Therapy)#Remus Sanders #though Remus only has one line and isn't mentioned by name directly #Anonymous

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ghostiiiee · 3 years

Text

Everything at Once

Idk what im doing but I will put a Trigger warning here before anything. I wrote this to be just after the accident. There is a slight bit of panic attack in here. Its not explicitly mentioned as a panic attack but it is sensory over load paired with it so its Not Fun. Also its been YEARS since i last wrote anything so please have mercy.

His parents had taken him in to the hospital as soon as they had gotten home. He had been unconscious at the time, waking up in the hospital bed hadn’t been pleasant. It sadly wasn’t the first time that has happened to him though. He never had the best luck.

Upon waking up the first thing he noticed was how jarringly loud it was.

The beeping felt like ringing in his ears. He could hear so many voices, overlapping, speaking in hushed voices outside his door. Sounds of shoes clacking against the ground. His own breathing sounded harsh and ragged. He heard a loud, slow thumping. And nearly drowned out by it all. A quiet buzz, that reminded him of a electricy. The sounds weren’t the only thing that was overwhelming. The sheets- which he was normally perfectly fine with why are they so scratchy and uncomfortable? The walls had such strange patterns to them. The entire room looked wrong. Its never looked like this before why does it look weird.

It wasn’t until he looked down at his hands did everything come crashing in.

His left hand had a raw, burring red mark going all the way up his arm. It branched out everywhere like lightning- why does it almost look like its glowing. its glowing green. HOly shit its glowing- He felt his breathing pick up. He heard the beeping get louder and faster. The voices outside stopped talking. He couldn’t pay attention to what happened. He knew they came in to the room, he knew they went to talk to him- why were they talking to him? Why are they so loud? One seemed to notice him flinch at the sounds and lowered their voice. He never caught what they was saying. Their tone was nice. His world got blurry.

~~~~

A week had passed since the accident. Or was it two? he wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t leave his room for much. Jazz brought him food, and so did Sam and Tucker.

He didn’t like how loud everything was around the house. He never noticed - or maybe he did- how loud that his dad was. He know he never noticed how everything seemed to make noise. All the electronics buzzed. The lights, the fridge, the computers, the tv - everything. He liked to sit in his room with the lights off. They don’t buzz if they’re off.

~~~~

The next few days were better and then much more akward.

Sam and Tucker dropped off some headphones that canceled out sound. He felt... much better wearing them. It was still loud but not as bad. However, they couldn’t help everything else that was coming up.

“I think I’m really strong.” Danny hugged his knees close.

“Are you sure that’s not just puberty-?” Sam elbowed Tucker.

“What makes you think that.”

Silently Danny slid off his bed and with ease- lifted it one handed. Bed Frame and all, with his two friends sitting on it. “Tada.”

“...Oh.”

~~~~

Almost full month had passed since the accident.

School had started the week before. And he was already banned from handling all glassware in the school. Breaking most of the science labs extra beakers on accident does that.

During lunch, he sat with his friends. Tucker had mentioned earlier that day wanting to show him something. (Danny was just glad that today seemed more normal than yesterdays arguments between Sam and Tucker. Who knew that they’d get all riled up about the lunch menu?)

“Hey Danny, do you remember Iron man?”

“...well... yeah? what about him...?” He slowly sat at the table.

Tucker just gave him the biggest grin. “Well I was blessed with an amazing idea last night. And with the power of only two red bulls, I present my idea. You can be a super hero too.”

“You cant be serious.” He deadpanned.

“He is.”

“Just watch.” Tucker pulled his phone out and handed it to Danny. “Here.”

Upon pressing play, he was met with an older video of Tony Stark in his lab. Scratch that- several videos of Tony Stark in his lab. All of them were him failing use one of the first iterations of the Iron man gear. Danny felt a small, amused smile creep onto his face.

Iron man was a hero of his. He never even considered...

“So? What do you think?”

“Tuck. Thats funny and all. But he fights big time. He’s an avenger.” Danny sighed. “Besides, theres barely any crime here-”

A shudder went through Danny’s body. Like he had just walked into a freezer. When he exhaled, it came out in a mist. “...That only happens at home by the portal-”

“Excuse me, dearies? I heard someone was trying to change the menu?”

#Danny Phantom #phandom fic #tony stark is mentioned lol #this went on LONGER than i first thought oopsie

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blossom-hwa · 4 years

Text

Blessings - Jacob

Here we start the first of nine prompts for the @starryktown Unbeleafable Bingo collaboration :) enjoy my first tbz work!!! Dedicated to @banhmi07 because your ask about Jacob playing guitar helped inspire this :D

Unbeleafable prompt: seasonal coffee

Pairing: Jacob x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, barista!au

Triggers: some cursing

Word Count: 1k

An angel’s voice soothes your work-worn mind.

Unbeleafable Masterlist | The Boyz Drabbles Masterlist

As much as you love the café with its warm, cozy atmosphere, hot drinks, and pleasant customers, there are still days where you either want to throw yourself out of the window or sink behind the counter and lie on the ground for several hours. There’s no in-between.

Today is one of those days, where there are too few workers, too many rude customers, and to top it off, it’s the start of the holiday season and all anyone wants to order are the stupid seasonal drinks you put out to increase business during the winter months.

The words “pumpkin spice” and “peppermint” and “marshmallows” practically send you into apoplectic shock at this point. You don’t think those words have the right to exist anymore.

One thing keeps you sane, though. In the last few hours of the rush, you become aware of the strumming of a guitar floating through the open door as people come in and out. It isn’t just the instrument, either – someone’s voice, a voice as smooth as the coffee you’re pouring and as sweet as the sugar sprinkled in, flows through the air.

It’s the sound of an angel, you’re sure. One of the powers above saw you dying behind the counter and blessed you with an angel’s voice to keep you alive. So even though you feel like crying behind the plastic smile you present to each customer, handing off cups of coffee and plates of pastries, you don’t collapse and melt into the ground. You stay standing.

And, well, you have to find some way to thank the angel. It’s only proper, isn’t it, to thank the heavenly being who kept you from leaping into the void?

So when there’s finally a lull in the rush and you have the opportunity to collapse in a chair and close your eyes for a few minutes, you stay behind the counter instead. Your eyes are drooping but you force yourself to focus, fingers flying as you pour coffee, add sugar and syrup and a bit of chocolate, and pick out one of Felix’s best-selling pastries fresh out of the oven to put in a small bag.

It’s one of the stupid seasonal coffee drinks. If you were thinking properly, you might have made something different because you’re tired of peppermint-chocolate-whatever-the-fuck-this-is, but it’s one of the café’s best sellers and your hands are operating on muscle memory at this point, so whatever. Felix’s pastry will make up for the indignity of a holiday drink.

You can still hear the angel singing when you step out of the café, leaving Eric to man the counter in your absence. It doesn’t take long to pinpoint the direction the voice is coming from – someone’s sitting on one of the benches a few feet away, strumming a guitar.

Suddenly, you feel very shy, standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pastry in the other. What if the person thinks you’re weird, coming over to give them food because you liked their singing? What if they don’t like the pastry? What if they don’t even like coffee?

Well, fuck it, you tell yourself. You’re already out here. You also don’t want to drink the coffee or eat the pastry, so you may as well give it a shot. And people who don’t appreciate Felix’s baking are people you don’t want to associate with.

The angel doesn’t look up at first, just keeps singing as you walk a bit closer. For a few moments, you just stand nearby, waiting awkwardly for him to finish the music.

Eventually, though, he looks up. And though you sorely miss the sound of his voice in your ears, the smile on his face is more than enough to make up for it.

With light brown hair and dark eyes, the singing angel looks unreal. He looks up at you with the sweetest smile, like the embodiment of peace and calm sent down from the sky. “Hi,” he greets quietly.

God really sent a fucking angel. He really did that.

It takes a second to find your voice, but eventually, you do. “Hi. Um, I’m Y/N. I work at the café just a few doors down. Listen, uh, this might sound really weird and awkward, but I was having a really bad day and your singing really helped me out. Your voice is beautiful.” You cough, embarrassed. “So I just wanted to bring you something as a sort of thanks for helping me get through it. It’s just coffee and a pastry.” You put them down on the seat next to him. “I hope you like it.”

You really didn’t think it was possible for his smile to get even wider but it does, a pink tint rising on his cheeks as he dips his head in thanks. “Thank you,” he says, eyes sparkling. “I’ll be sure to enjoy it.” He bites his lip as though unsure of what to say next, then smiles again. “My name is Jacob.”

He’s beautiful. He’s fucking beautiful and you don’t know what to do with this new information and your brain is short-circuiting but you finally manage to reply. “It was really nice to meet you, Jacob.” You bow slightly. “You seriously have a beautiful voice.”

He grins. “Thank you.”

As you walk back into the café, you think that’s the end of it. You’ve met an angel, he’ll return to the heavens, you won’t see him again. The heavens above sent him to you for several hours, and you’re more than thankful for that.

Which is why you nearly have a heart attack the next afternoon when Jacob walks into the café, guitar slung against his back, and shyly asks for “the drink you made yesterday, it was really good.”

(Eric and Felix snicker behind the counter as you trip your way through a response. They outright snort with laughter when Jacob dawdles at the counter for a moment longer than he has to, then slips a piece of paper over to you with pink cheeks and dashes out of the café.

The paper has his fucking phone number on it, along with a very sweet note. And if you stay up all night texting the brown-haired boy with the angelic voice, what of it, Felix? Eric? What fucking of it?)

#starryktown #unbeleafable bingo #the boyz #tbz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz jacob scenarios #tbz scenarios #tbz jacob #jacob #fluff #barista!au #drabble #blessings #scriptura-delirus

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Late Night Visitor

Summary: A mysterious stranger visits your balcony and accidentally leaves behind a priceless jewelry that they stole from a museum.

Author’s Note: I’m pleased to share the next story for @bnhabookclub Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Crime AU” It took a while getting this done because of work stress and having slight writer’s block (plus I kept changing the story’s direction). But really, it was because of how stressed/tired I’ve been the past few weeks. So, really sorry if it took forever posting another story.

It’s also my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully I did him justice! He was the first character that popped up when working with this prompt. Please enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

“Ah! Hot, hot!”

Well, isn’t this just great? Nothing like accidentally burning your tongue during dinner to remind yourself how impatient you are—damn hunger. One hand flails to cool down your mouth. Steam dances above the hearty bowl of curry rice, the sweet smell of caramelized onions greeting your nose with a soft kiss. Bless the local 7-11 markets for selling quick and easy meals.

You sit criss-cross applesauce on the fluffy gray rug and scroll through social media for the millionth time. It’s been a slow weekend as yesterday’s news is recycled for today’s news. A random show plays on the television, but you don’t pay attention to the white noise. All your focus is on the phone, yet you still reach for another bite from your meal. How the rug stays clean during dinner nights at home is a complete mystery.

Sipping on your drink, you spare a glance at the balcony and do a double-take—a stranger is crouching outside. You choke, “Oh shit!”

Without thinking, you scurry behind the gray couch, not caring if the rug becomes messy. Your pounding heart is like a concert bass drum which echoes around the small apartment. The sound drowns out the show’s mindlessly chatter. Frightened eyes peek around the corner, and you whip back in full regret.

The person is still outside. Their back is facing toward the balcony door, and they are wearing a form-fitting black hoodie. Hands search for your phone, but they come up empty. Panic finally settles in when you realize it’s on the coffee table. Great, you moan as your head softly hits against the furniture—is the door even locked?

You’re faced with a dilemma: Do you stay out of sight until the stranger leaves or risk being seen while getting help? After much deliberation, you swallow a hard pill and growl at the ceiling, “If I’m doing this, I better not die!”

You’re like a soldier crawling through the mud with a drill sergeant yelling down your neck. You snatch the phone off the table, but make the mistake of looking up at the sliding door. Everything comes to a screeching halt as curious gold eyes stare into your timid ones. The mysterious visitor becomes more intimidating thanks to the balaclava mask—it covers the lower half of their face.

The intense staring contest last for an eternity. You nearly rip off the loose strands on your rug when the stranger approaches closer; they stop when you back away. Taking pity on you, they jump over the balcony and disappear into the quiet night.

A sense of relief washes over you.

Who knows what could have happened to you? Maybe your mom was right about learning some self-defense; the pepper spray is not enough. As you stand and dust off your pants, a shiny light catches your attention; it’s coming from outside. You go against your better judgment and tiptoe toward the balcony.

Your jaw immediately falls to the floor when you spot an exquisite ruby pendant. A sparkling round diamond sits above the bright red gemstone, a slight tint of purple hue lurking underneath. Even the platinum metal chain carries an air of luxury. It’s as if the gods carefully hand-crafted this entire jewelry themselves. In short, it is simple but elegant.

Sliding the door, you wonder if this is some kind of trap. After checking your surroundings, you swiftly pick up the accessory and snort, “Thank you for making me feel poor.”

Fingers glide along the gemstone’s perfect curves as you gaze at the sleeping neighborhood. Your mind goes wild: Who was the person with those haunting golden eyes? Why did they come to your balcony? And why in the world did they leave behind a beautiful masterpiece?

You have so many questions but very few answers.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“So, you didn’t call the police?”

“Um…no…?”

“And why not?”

“It was a mixture of being both scared and stupid.”

“Oh my—” Fuyumi pinches the bridge of her nose. You twiddle your fingers like a guilty child and sink further into the booth. Fuyumi had her suspicions when you texted her to meet up at the usual coffee shop near your apartment. It’s your go-to place whenever you’ve done something questionable, which is ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, the café whips up the perfect batch of castella—her favorite pastry.

Customers stroll in and out of the coffee shop as piano music plays softly in the background. Roasted coffee beans linger in the air, tempting your nose with its delicious aroma. Out of habit, you push the castella closer to Fuyumi as if that would help soften the blow. She exhales, “Next time, please call the police.”

“Yes, mother,” you mumble much to Fuyumi’s displeasure, but she lets it slide. With the worst over, you bounce straight up and tap the table with an air of excitement. “Oh! Here’s the best part though, besides surviving a break-in—”

“The person was outside your balcony.”

“—close enough, but not really the point, okay?” Fuyumi rolls her eyes, and you fish out your phone to show her a picture. She takes a closer look as you ramble off. “Anyway, my late-night visitor left behind this gorgeous pendant! Why they were carrying this around is beyond me, and so carelessly too. I’m no jeweler, but I’m pretty sure those stones are worth a fortune—still beautiful, though.”

“Yeah, and stolen!” The white-haired teacher hisses. You blink, wholly baffled at her extreme reaction. Fuyumi whips out her iPhone with two fingers flying above the screen. She shoves it toward you, your eyes skimming through the article. The news delivers a sharp slap across your face as the realization sinks in.

Oh no…

Fuyumi bites her lip, “It’s The Grand Droplet, a priceless heirloom rumored to offer infinite life and prosperity. Police are saying the notorious thief, Hawks, stole the pendant last night from the Yutaka Jewelry Museum.” A few seconds later, she adds, “You have the pendant—”

“Shhhhhh!” A hand attacks her arm, your panicked eyes wandering around the coffee shop as if your cover got blown. No one turns their heads, but you shoot an annoyed glare at Fuyumi. “Why don’t you say it louder? I don’t think the barista heard you!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just,” she grips the table’s edge and leans closer, “This is serious! You have to bring the pendant to the authorities. See, this is exactly why you should have called the police last night! The longer you wait, the more guilty you look. Maybe you’ll even become an accomplice to the crime.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry…”

You dramatically groan into your hands, “Why did this happen to me?! When I said I wanted to live like Larry, I didn’t mean this!”

“I know,” Fuyumi pats your head and sneaks a bite of her delicious treat; her phone chimes beside you. She checks the message before flashing an apologetic stare. “Listen, I have to take care of something with my family, but I hate to leave you like this.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle this myself,” you pathetically convince her. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen, knock on wood—”

“The table is metal.”

“I said what I said!” Your fist aggressively pounds the table, scaring off some customers. A mother hastily pushes her child away from the chaotic scene. You calm down and sigh, “I promise to call you if I’m in danger, okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod before whispering, “Sorry, table.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The walk back home is anything but relaxing. You are on high alert, throwing suspicious glances at anyone coming too close to you. They could be undercover cops waiting to ambush you and interrogate your poor soul for hours until the necklace reappears.

But I didn’t do anything! I’m a good noodle!

You sigh as the key unlocks the door, your shoes flying off by the entrance. Fortunately, you hid the pendant in a safe place. All you want to do is get rid of this jewelry; it brings nothing but trouble.

Marching down the hallway, you grumble under your breath, “Stupid Hawks, and his stupid stealing habits.”

Everyone knows about the infamous Hawks. He strikes when one least expects him to, and somehow successfully evades capture after every heist. But Hawks always leaves behind his signature red feather as a little present for authorities—it never fails to rile them up. Hopefully, the cops show some mercy when you explain what happened. Maybe you should work on your puppy dog look before heading downtown, which might help you score a few sympathy points.

You find the burgundy jewelry box sitting on the closet’s top shelf and breathe a sigh of relief—the pendant is still inside. Not wasting precious time, you close the lid and exit your room. A soft click makes you freeze.

Standing by the balcony door is Hawks, who wears a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. His ashy blonde hair is lazily slicked back, a few strands sticking here and there like no tomorrow. Surprisingly, he lowers the balaclava mask and flashes a boyish grin, “‘Bout time you came home! I was getting bored out there.”

“How did you—wait, never mind. You break into high-security places to steal things for a living,” you say, shifting the jewelry box onto your right grip. “Listen, as much as I would like to stay and chit-chat, my day is fully booked. Can’t really cancel on these people, ya know?” You slowly tiptoe backward, an awkward laugh ringing through the air. “Let’s do a rain check; I’m free next week. Okay? Okay! See ya—“

“Hold it!” You halt on his order, a curse slipping out your mouth. Hawks strides across the floor, and you clutch the box closer to your chest. You feel as though your feet are glued to the ground, the nerves growing stronger once Hawks stands only a few feet away. He crosses his arms and nods at the box, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really.”

“Can I take a look?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because I don’t want to, that’s why,” you childishly snap and send him a dismissive wave. “Now, shoo! You’re wasting my precious time.”

Hawks chuckles at your feisty attitude. He finds this whole ordeal extremely amusing. You know who he is, you know of his reputation just like everyone else in Japan. And yet, you keep on swinging like a boxer with your witty responses. Still, he has a job to finish. “I’m not leaving until you give me that pendant.”

“Well, I hope you’re paying for half the rent because there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to you, Mr. Thief.” Two seconds later, you add, “Besides, it’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Oh!” You give him a fake laugh, pointing one finger at your chest. “So the thief is criticizing me for having something that’s not mine? How rich.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, but,” Hawks dangerously invades your personal space without giving you a chance to stop him. From far away, he doesn’t appear tall. However, Hawks somehow towers over you, which makes you involuntarily squeak. A wicked glint shines through his golden eyes as he studies your unique facial features. You suddenly forget to breathe when his eyes glance at your lips—damn him.

Hawks plucks the box from your loose grip. The hypnotic spell comes crashing down, and you loudly snarl, “Hey! Give it back!”

“Sorry, Dove,” Hawks keeps you at arm’s length, his gloved hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smirks, “I got a buyer who’s willing to pay a hefty price for this beauty. Of course, you are way more stunning, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Quit charming me!” You’re a blushing mess now and throw a pillow at him; he easily dodges it much to your dismay. Hawks’ cackles bounce off the wall, which makes you scowl. His fingers slide the balcony door open, and he tastes sweet freedom.

“Farewell, Dove!”

You have a deja vu moment when Hawks jumps over the edge. Your legs rush outside, and eyes frantically search the streets, but it’s no use—the thief is long gone. One hand slaps your forehead as you stupidly let him get away with the jewel. Feeling like a deflated balloon, you whip out your phone and make a quick call.

“Fuyumi…yeah, the pendant got stolen again.”

Stupid thief.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You collapse on the couch with as much grace as an inexperienced dancer who steps on people’s toes. Work left you exhausted, but you’re glad it’s almost the weekend. You’ll definitely sleep in and have a lazy day on Sunday. It’s what you deserve after meeting tight deadlines and also talking to the police about Hawks.

Fortunately, they do not blame you for anything, much to your relief. It’s been about a week since Hawks broke into your apartment to steal back the Grand Droplet. Police have no luck locating him; they believe the thief is lying low until it’s safe enough for him to strike again. Where exactly is anyone’s guess.

A knock disrupts your thoughts.

It comes from the balcony, and you jump to your feet. No one is outside, although a flash of red catches your eye. Lo and behold, it’s Hawks’ signature feather with a small note attached. Oh, how lovely, you think before snatching the gift off the floor. Your pet name is affectionately written across the paper. You hate yourself for finding Hawks’ calligraphy impressive, but proceed to read the note.

Sorry for cutting our convo short—had a deal to close. No hard feelings, though, right? If anything, I’ll make it up to you, Dove. Besides, you still owe me that rain check.

See ya soon!

-H

You don’t bother biting back your smile.

Guess you’ll be seeing Fuyumi at the coffee shop again.

Fourth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous prompt: Cuddles

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks imagine #bnha hawks #keigo takami #bnhabookclub #hero camp bingo #crime au

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

6. a storm raging on the horizon

your beauty hides the pain Lost on the mountain, Jaskier accidentally angers a mage who decides to curse Yennefer with his company and for once, it might actually be a blessing in disguise…

A/N: sorry in advance for the mixed signals in this one :p @random-nerd-3 @surreal-static @10moonymhrivertam x

previous chapter

It’s a temple.

Of course it’s a temple.

Jaskier has been dead on his feet for a while by the time they get there but Yennefer’s makes a swift beeline to the small fountain in the centre that, unless he’s gone entirely mad, seems to be glowing, not that he has the strength to question it.

“I won’t be long, bard,” Yennefer tells him.

“If only you would be,” he mutters, half-heartedly smirking at her before she kneels by the fountain, doing who knows what.

He’s too tired to care about what she’s planning so he lets himself settle on the floor once more, leaning his head on his lute as he lets his eyes slip shut. He’s not sure if seriously debating his life choices counts as resting but that’s all he manages before the familiar tug of yennefer, get closer to yennefer, yennefer, you’re too far away from yennefer, yennefer returns to his bones.

Yennefer curses before he can even think about moving and the warmth of somebody sitting next to him fills his mind. “Jaskier?”

Humming, he opens his eyes to see Yennefer’s perfectly raised perfect eyebrow. He chuckles despite everything. “It can be considered impolite to stare, my lady.”

His stomach rumbles before she can reply and he winces, offering her a sheepish grin. She doesn’t seem amused though, and her expression morphs into confusion. “They didn’t bring you up any food yesterday, did they?”

“They were too busy trying to kill me,” Jaskier confirms.

“I thought-” Yennefer cuts herself off with a curse in a language he doesn’t recognise.

Well, at least that explains why she’d assumed he’d be perfectly fine with walking for miles. He can’t exactly blame her for misinformation, can he? Well, he could but he likes to think he’s just a little above that kind of behaviour and- ah who is he kidding, he just doesn’t want to hold a grudge against the very sexy but insane witch he’s literally stuck with until further notice.

“You could have told me!” Yennefer grumbles as if this is somehow his fault.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Yes, darling, I’m sure that would have gone well, especially after you and your chaos nearly stole my voice. You know, the usual method of seduction is taking someone’s breath away, not their entire livelihood.”

Yennefer looks annoyed for a moment, elbowing him sharply, but then she frowns again. “You could still play the lute.”

“Yes, but nobody pays for a tune without words and so a bard isn’t really a bard if he can’t sing. Or flirt. Both of which require a voice.”

He hadn’t meant to say anything particularly thought-provoking but Yennefer is silent long enough for him to think he’s said something that at least doesn’t just irritate her, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how much he likes that realisation. He does not want to go into why he likes it but he’s content in acknowledging it’s nice to exchange more than barbed words here and there.

The sun rises before either of them do.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Jaskier breathes instinctively.

Yennefer scoffs at first but then follows his gaze to the horizon just past the fountain that seems to be glowing even more than it was before and maybe Jaskier is just imagining it but he thinks he hears her gasp. And he wouldn't blame her for the dawn is truly a thing of beauty that he firmly believes anyone can appreciate.

“I was hoping this place could break the spell,” Yennefer admits eventually.

Jaskier turns to her, finally taking his eyes off the sunrise. “I take it the spell is more complicated than that?”

With a small chuckle, Yennefer nods. “There’s not a lot I can do when I don’t know why it was cast in the first place.”

Guilt blooms in Jaskier’s chest as if trying to establish its own rotten garden. “I’m sorry. Really, I know the last thing you’d want is to be stuck with me but believe me when I tell you I simply cannot imagine her reasoning either.”

Yennefer hums, then elbows him again. “You could be worse, bard.”

It takes a moment for her words to register but as soon as they do, Jaskier half-turns and grins at her. “What was that, darling? First the apologies and now a compliment? Maybe I’ll have to thank that other witch!”

“I take it back,” Yennefer mutters darkly, standing up and brushing dirt off her dress, “and I’m afraid we’ll have to walk back again until I can portal us anywhere else.”

Jaskier sighs, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. It can’t be that bad, he tells himself, and he’s definitely been on more tiring adventures with Geralt so he can totally do this, he can definitely do this without embarrassing himself in front of Yennefer.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jaskier says, slinging his lute over his shoulders. Yennefer follows the movement with a clearly sceptical hum but says nothing, starting to walk at a thankfully reasonable pace.

He manages about a minute of silence before clearing his throat. “So, what was in the box?” he asks.

Yennefer sighs loudly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“And do you often sacrifice things to temples? Well, I suppose that’d be more of an offering actually so, uhm, do you often leave offerings of mysterious payments at temples or…?”

Another sigh, but Yennefer slows enough for them to Jaskier to only be half a step behind her. “Do you always ask this many questions? It’s enough to drive anyone mad, bard.”

And it has, when he thinks about it. Not just almost his entire family and various patrons who it turns out weren’t actually interested in his bardic talents but also his very best friend in the whole world. Maybe he should stop asking so many questions about witchers and witches and write more about the sunrise or nobles who won’t mind hearing his ballads for at least long enough for him to stock up on coin.

“How is it that even your thinking is irritatingly loud?” Yennefer asks, interrupting said thinking.

He huffs. “Well it’s hardly my fault you make a habit of spying into other people’s heads. What, is yours inadequately furnished despite all that power you’re meant to have?”

“I do have power,” Yennefer snaps, turning to him with ire in her eyes, “but you wouldn’t know the first thing about being powerful even if you were anything more than just another bard.”

Jaskier scowls at her. “I’m not the one who resorted to chasing dragons with my entitled fake boyfriend because I wanted to be more than just another witch.”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to kill him. And then the second passes and she just grits her teeth before continuing to walk, leaving him to groan and scramble to catch up so he doesn’t feel like he’s being ripped apart again. Gods is he getting tired of following around people who would rather he didn’t exist.

idk if anyone’s still reading but if you are, sorry it’s not v exciting, juggling wips is not exactly my forte. anyway, hope you’re having a good december <3

thanks for reading! | masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#i wish tumblr would automatically copy over formatting as well grr #yennskier #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #fanfiction #the witcher #fanfic #getting together #slow burn #insecure jaskier #hurt jaskier #yennefer x jaskier #i just love these two #my writing #ybhtp

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valhallasubstitute · 4 years

Text

Rainy Days

Modern AU

--Sihtric x reader

Sihtric promised to be home yesterday but Uhtred insisted that the business trip be extended. Again. You’re a little bummed out about it but he promises to make it up to you. And then the rains come.

A/N: It’s been raining the last couple of days (love a Scottish summer) and all I’ve wanted to do is be spooned in bed by a big man. Enjoy my pining.

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, this is a very fluffy and soft Dane boy who looks like a rat because he deserves it.

Wc: 1336

‘Sihtric you promised, you said-‘

‘I know what I said, I’m sorry babe. Blame Uhtred, blame Alfred, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

‘You better.’ You heard Sihtric laugh down the other end of the phone and the sound brought a smile to your lips despite your annoyance.

‘Look I’ve got to go, okay? I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

And he was gone.

Sihtric had been gone for three weeks and was meant to be home yesterday but some unforeseen complication came up, meaning you were left alone and disappointed.

You weren’t really mad at Sihtric, maybe a little, but more than anything you just missed him. You decided that next time you saw Uhtred you’d tell him that yes, while Sihtric may be one of his best friends and work for him, you’d actually like to see the man you’re in a relationship with from time to time? Or maybe you’d just text Gisela and get her to do it…

You tossed your phone onto the couch and flicked through Netflix. There was nothing new and you couldn’t watch the show you had started with Sihtric because he wasn’t here. The audacity of the man, he had pushed for you to watch it with him and then he buggers off. You had been enjoying it too, though you couldn’t remember the name of it, The Only Land? The Last… something?

Nothing caught your eye and forced yourself out of the little nest you had built. You decided as you shuffled through to the kitchen that you’d have a hot drink and then stick a shitty romance movie on. If nothing else you could fall asleep to it.

While the water boiled you watched the world out of the window. It had smelt like rain for days and finally small droplets began to fall from the sky. The presence of the Old Gods was still strongly felt in your two story home, magical things seemed to happen between you and Sihtric when it rained, blessings from Thor he would say.

The first time you had met it had been raining. You were waiting for your friend Hild, a catch up between the two of you was well overdue and you had agreed to meet her outside of her work. You were shocked when you had walked up to a big house rather than an office but you soon learnt that that was just how Uhtred operated, one big family.

You had sat on the wall outside, kicking your legs against the stone, umbrella in hand, when a car had pulled up. Two men got out, one of them hurried past you, a small nod of acknowledgement and a brief smile. Finan.

The other man looked as if he was in no rush and you took the time to admire him. Broad, arms that had you salivating and kind eyes. When he spoke you nearly fell off the wall.

‘You’ll catch your death from sitting out in the rain.’ You recovered quickly, savouring the sound of his voice, it was soft and you wondered how your name would sound if he said it.

‘It’s not so bad, you don’t seem to mind I either.’ He smiled then and you should have known your heart would end up belonging to him. He opened his palm and closed his eyes, letting the rain fall on him for a just a moment, embracing it.

That’s when the door opened and Hild came out. She took in the scene before her with a single, perfect eyebrow raised and you found yourself blushing.

‘Whatever he says Y/N don’t listen to him. He’s a heathen.’ She was smiling at Sihtric as she said it and he smiled back, embracing her.

‘Abbess.’ Sihtric said nothing more, nodded to the both of you and then he was disappearing into the house that you thought would be an office.

You had met Gisela at that lunch date and suddenly you were a regular at that house, becoming friends with everyone and a little more with some.

The first time you had had sex with Sihtric it had been raining too. He had almost cancelled your date for a late night work thing but you had insisted that you tag along. You sat in his car at 1am and watched a warehouse, you were 100% certain that you were on a stakeout, a game of spies without the fun and all of the risk.

You’d been there for nearly 5 hours when you finally snapped. You had slept a little, talked a lot and shared enough caffeine to make anyone buzzed. The rain was too heavy to see properly and you couldn’t turn the engine on for the noise. He looked so good and the space between you was so small and before you could really explain it you were riding him in the front seat, all breathless moans and desperate hands. You fell asleep in the back, your head on his chest and the sound of the rain hammering against the window.

The memory of it send a shiver through you, a smug little smile spreading across your lips. You loved that you got to share his bed. You made your way up there now, slipping into one of his T shirts and some joggers to sleep in. He’d never know and even if he did you knew he wouldn’t mind.

He had told you once that one of his favourite memories was just after you moved in together. It was summer and the window was wide open due to the heat but a thunderstorm was on its way.

The two of you hadn’t gotten out of bed all day, the invitation of fresh sheets and each other, with nowhere to be far too inviting to decline. You had woken up in his arms, tucked tightly into his large frame. You had stayed there, sharing soft touches and taking photos, laughing at nothing and everything.

You had fallen asleep again at some point and when you woke up Sihtric wasn’t in bed with you. The storm was in full swing and some of the warmth had left the room. Instead of walking around your home naked you threw on one of Sihtric’s shirts and went to find him in nothing else.

He said that the minute he saw you in his clothes, smiling at him with messy hair, he knew he wanted to be with you forever. He had always known that, he’d said, but in that moment he had never felt such clarity, determination and love.

You couldn’t picture a life without your Dane in it and as the memory faded his side of the bed seemed to become even more empty, mocking you in his absence. You sipped your drink with a pout.

Until you heard the slam of a car door.

It was far too close to the house to be from anywhere other than your driveway, and you knew the sweet little lock noise well.

You didn’t put on shoes, you didn’t grab an umbrella and you didn’t close the front door. None of those things seemed important in your haste, your excitement.

Sihtric wasn’t even halfway to the house when you flung yourself at him, the stoic look he wore so well evaporating into a wide smile that rivaled your own.

‘How?!’

He didn’t answer you, just shrugged as if it wasn’t exactly what you had been wishing for all day. He dropped his duffel bag and brought you into his arms.

He felt like home.

You took his face in his hands and crashed your lips into his, a happy groan telling you he had missed this just as much as you had. It wasn’t until you both stopped for air that you realised you sock-covered feet where soaked.

‘You’re home!’ He beamed at you before dipping, throwing his bag over one shoulder and you over the other.

‘I’m home.’

#the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartanson #sihtric kjartanson x reader #Modern au #inga writes #fluff

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Love Maze »15

Previous » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 8.1k ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, homophobic slurs (censored), angst, they have another argument smh these boys never catch a fucking break

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang ♡♡♡

The early morning’s blinding rays invited themselves in through the curtain cracks in Jungkook’s bedroom, landing on a sleeping Taehyung’s puffy face.

The elder’s distracting snoring bounced off the walls of the room, not bothersome to him as he peacefully slept through the noise. Honestly, it was a surprise how much Jungkook was immune to the sound..

The one noise that always did manage to wake Taehyung up, however, was the familiar ringing of that goddamn alarm clock.

As per usual, Tae went through his daily routine consisting of whining about how he’d been pulled out of his slumber, begging Jungkook for a few more minutes, cursing out early morning practices.. same old.

“I’m gonna skip out on showering this morning..” Taehyung drowsily mumbled into the pillow, desperately seeking for a few extra minutes. His body was sore, and Taehyung was one of those people who needed eight hours of sleep.

“Wake me up when you’re done, will you?” A small pause, followed by a raspy, “I love youu~”

Jungkook drowsily turned off the alarm before groaning, for once he didn't actually want to leave his bed.

''You sure?'' he sat up properly, hand reaching over to stroke the elders back carefully, the sudden verbal affection from his boyfriend still surprising-- yet welcomed. It was something the younger needed a little time to get used to, and it made his chest flutter every single time.

''Love you too~'' He cooed back, giving Tae's ass a soft pat before getting out of bed, completely naked from last night. he rummaged through his closet for some clean clothes, stretching the joints in his body before slowly heading towards the bathroom.

Jungkook winced lightly when the hot water hit the scratches on his back, but quickly got used to it as he stood there for a while, washing up and losing himself in his thoughts, everything from what had happened yesterday to Jisoo. He really owed her an apology for not coming back...

When finished, Kook ruffled his wet hair before patting his body mostly dry and throwing on his boxers and sweatpants-- leaving the shirt off to head back to his bedroom. He walks over to the small mirror hanging on the wall, turning his back towards it to check out his back.

''Wow you've got some claws.'' He chuckled before crawling up on the bed to lay down next to Tae again, nuzzling his nose into the elders hair, ''Wake uuup....~''

Taehyung slothfully stirred in his spot, groaning out in groggy distaste when he felt the bed dip, signaling that his boyfriend was out of the shower.

“Yah..” He turned his head to the side, cheek pressed against the pillow whilst his eyelids hung barely open, “you yourself said I have some claws, don’t make me use them..”

Tae contemplated life for a few more seconds before giving in to his boyfriend’s soft pleads, sitting up on the bed with a loud yawn, hands busy rubbing the fatigue out of his eyes.

God, school hadn’t even started and the elder was already dreading stepping into those halls.

''Maybe I liked it..'' Jungkook wrapped his arms around Taehyung to pull him closer into a hug, pecking kisses against his cheeks to annoy him in his sleepy state.

''We have to get ready, like, right now!'' He pressed one last kiss on his lips before getting off the bed, grabbing a snug, black long sleeve to pull over his torso.

Taehyung slowly made his way out of bed, butt-naked as he searched for last night’s clothes.

Thankfully they’ve dried up quite a bit, but the rain’s aroma still lingered in the fabrics.

The elder wasn’t especially thrilled to waltz into school looking.. like, well, put together.

But he didn’t want to bother Jungkook, so black, tight jeans would have to do.

Tae stared at his reflection in the mirror, quickly running his fingers through the waves. He grimaced, nothing seemed to tame the wild curls.

“Fuck it.. let’s go,” the elder fished for the keys in his pocket, throwing on his shoes— double-knotting the laces like always.

Once he got in his car, Taehyung nearly had a heart attack.

That goddamn stuffed animal. It was smiling at him through the rear view mirror.

Shit, he still didn’t know what to do with it.. did Jungkook still want it? Does he throw it in the dumper?

Maybe he’d give it to Jisoo, something told him that Yuna would love it..

Jungkook quickly followed, ignoring the fact that the bear was mockingly smiling at him as well as he sat down. He clicked the seatbelt on before patting Taehyung's thigh reassuringly.

"Don't worry too much. I'm not angry anymore, okay?" He nudges his chin towards the bear.

"I don't really want it...." he felt kind of bad for saying it, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stand staring at it after what it is associated with.

"But we could give it to noona?" He mused-- he still owed her a fucking apology. Maybe this would serve as an apology...

"Anyway...don't worry about that. Let's go." Jungkook sunk into his heat, eyes focusing back ahead.

Taehyung sighed, but nodded nonetheless. He didn’t blame the younger for not wanting to keep the stuffed animal. Truth be told, Tae himself wouldn’t be fully comfortable with seeing its cheery face every time he visited Jungkook’s apartment.

One, it was creepy as fuck. And secondly, it was a mere reminder of his selfish doings.

Taehyung just... he wanted to move past that. He wanted to do better, for his boyfriend.

“Yeah,” he started the car, “noona’s kid would probably like it.”

Practice was over in the flutter of an eye— thankfully. Tae didn’t know how much more physical activity he was able to bear with a noticeably sore ass. It was a blessing that he managed to keep his nonchalant facade intact for so long. Trying to act like his boyfriend didn’t just make sweet love to him last night was hard..

Sweaty from working out, Taehyung briskly stripped out of his practice attire, using his jersey to wipe at the dampness on his glistening neck.

“Tae, should I be concerned?,” Hoseok looked, well, concerned.

“What’s up with the giant teddy bear in the back of your car?”

“Yeah, Chim and I saw that too.” Yoongi casually chimed in, pointing over at a half-naked Jimin who was busy typing away on his phone, deaf to the chatter surrounding him.

Taehyung—who was growing annoyed by the topic of that stupid bear— simply brushed it off. “it’s for a friend. She has a little girl, so..”

As if knowing exactly whom it was for, Namjoon defeatedly shrunk in his spot, too much of a wuss to make eye-contact with Jungkook.

He wondered if the younger was still mad..

Sitting in their usual lunch table, they talked about a plethora of topics. However, the newest conversation specifically aimed at Jimin; everyone wanting to know what was keeping the latter so invested.

“What’s got you so hooked on that phone, Chim?”

“More like who..” Hoseok teasingly nudged at his friend’s side, encouraging him to spill it out. Jimin was extremely defiant at first, but his hyung’s loud presence wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“Nothing.. it’s stupid, but— long story short, I downloaded a dating app.”

A series of “oo’s” traveled around the table.

“Oh yeah? Did you meet a girl or something?”

Jimin turned to look at Namjoon, expression so distraught yet.. confident. With a soft exhale, he corrected the elder.

“Actually.. It's a him. His name’s Mino.”

Taehyung abruptly stopped chewing on his cereal, sharing a curt glance with his boyfriend.

“Mino..” Jin pondered out loud, “like the rapper from WINNER?”

“Obviously not, hyung.” The younger rolled his eyes, a bit frightened by the lack of words.

Seeming to notice his distress, Yoongi softly encouraged Jimin to expand on it further— after asking if every single one of his friends were gay.

“I don’t know, we’ve only talked for a few hours.. but he’s really cool. Sweet, too— oh, and he’s also obsessed with strawberries, just like you Tae!”

The boy’s eyes lit up at the topic, obvious to all he had a massive crush.

“Yeah? What else do you know about the guy.” Taehyung took a bite of his strawberry, interested in knowing more.

Finally growing more comfortable, Jimin’s shy smile resurfaced.

“Uhm.. he’s twenty-three, and he teaches little kids. How cute is that? He’s into video games, if I remember correctly.. Animal Crossing is his favorite. Halsey! He enjoys listening to her music... also, he’s really pretty.”

“Damn, Jimin. Just marry the guy already..” Jin snickered.

“Chim’s whipped.”

The subject of the matter pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Am not.. it’s just— ah, he texted me!”

Taehyung snorted in amusement, shaking his head before looking at Jungkook.

“Wish you’d text me more. You’re a horrible texter, you know.”

Jungkook's eyes had been balling back and forth during the conversations, from half-glaring at Namjoon (even if he'd calmed down, honestly--Namjoon was just a clutz. She seemed fine... he hoped.), to his gaze softening at the way Jimin was swooning over his new crush-- a boy, even!... The way his eyes lit up was heartwarming.

Then, during his entire daydream, Taehyungs words burst his little bubble. The younger breathes out a chuckle through his nose, nudging his boyfriend back.

''Why would I text you when you're with me every day?'' He wrapped an arm around Taes shoulder to pull him closer with his strong arm-- from any outsider it would simply look friendly. ''Or do you miss me that bad during class too?''

Taehyung kept his eyes trained on the tray in-front of him, mindlessly picking at his cereal as a distraction from Jungkook’s hold.

Now that their friends knew about their relationship, they didn’t miss the opportunity to coo at the couple-y sight.

As a natural response, his cheeks got stained with a rosy pop of color. Tae shrugged out of his boyfriend’s grasp, though, a petty attempt to seem unfazed.

“Duh..” He sassed, aggressively munching on his buttered toast.

“Why else would I send ‘everyone here sucks, kinda wish you were here’ texts? And you know how you repay my affection? By leaving me on read.”

Taehyung childishly huffed, coming across as needy for the younger’s attention.

Jungkook withdrew his arm and flashed a toothy grin towards the elder, shrugging as well in response.

''I will reply next time, promise.''

He glanced at the clock, ignoring the repeated cooes from his hyungs.

''Speaking of class, it's almost time to go,'' He nudges his boyfriend once more.

''I'll make sure to check my phone often then, but don't expect me to be glued onto it like Jimin..'' He jokes, the rest of the group snickering-- however Jimin remained unfazed, too caught up in his own little bubble that is his cellphone.

As they all separated to go to their respective classes, Jungkook sat down by his desk, placing his cellphone by his stack of books, only paying the lecture half of his attention as the other half was constantly glancing over at his device. This time he would reply.

A few minutes into the lecture, Taehyung already had his cellphone in his hands.

His boyfriend’s contact was displayed on the screen, a picture he snuck of Jungkook sleeping set as the younger’s profile.

Biting at the corner of his bottom lip, he began typing away, curious to see how fast it’d take Jungkook to reply.

To: Kook🐰🤟🏼 i’m trying to pay attention in class but my ass is still sore 😒 be glad I love your big dick just as much as I love you 😙

Jungkook picked his phone up much quicker than he'd like to admit, swiping the one sided wall of previously sent texts sent by his boyfriend. The last text received made the younger's cheeks flush in pink along with the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He immediately began tapping at his screen, a foreign concept to everybody who caught a glance at jungkook in the classroom.

To: Tae🐯💜 Haha... you took it pretty well. Maybe next time you can give me the same treatment🥴 now I can't pay attention either... love you!

The elder chuckled— a bit too loudly, but he brushed it off as a cough.

To: Kook🐰🤟🏼 maybe.. 😏 if you keep replying I might just have to give you a big surprise

Taehyung sat his phone down, but the emptiness in his hands didn’t last long. Soon enough, he was back to texting Jungkook.

Tae wasn’t fully pleased, the sudden drive to see his boyfriend was too overpowering to ignore.

To: Kook🐰🤟🏼 actually, meet me in the secret spot behind the school?? ‘m needy for a kiss

“Uhm, Mrs. Jung?” Everyone’s head swiveled towards Taehyung, “can I use the restroom?”

The elderly teacher seemed to think about it for a while, the creases in her forehead wrinkling even further as she visibly frowned.

“Sure. But be quick.”

The boy nodded, sliding back on his chair before practically jogging out of the classroom, excited to hold his boyfriend.

Jungkook held his promise of replying once, but didn't even bother sending anything else, his phone shoved back into his pocket as he excused himself. As soon as he left the classroom, he too sprinted towards the hidden spot behind the building. If he had this kind of speed during practice, he surely would have been deemed the golden maknae all over again.

Jungkook rocked on his feet as he waited for his boyfriend, actually fishing up his phone for once to send a quick text.

To: Tae🐯💜 I'm here!! come!!! T3T

“Maybe next time I can give you the same treatment, huh?” Taehyung’s cheeky smirk shifted into a genuine smile when he approached Jungkook, teasingly recalling what the younger had sent him over text.

Unable to take the distance for a second longer, Tae ran into his boyfriend’s arms, not wasting any time peppering his face with loud kisses.

Fuck.. Taehyung was the definition of whipped.

Not worried about anyone catching them, the elder slowly drove Jungkook’s back against the rusty wall, lips attached to the younger’s in a gentle kiss.

When he pulled away, Tae’s hooded eyes were drawn to his boyfriend’s face, raking over every little detail.

“You replied,” he broke out into a silly grin, playfully squeezing at Kook’s hips. “You’ve grown~”

Jungkook hummed into the kiss with content, hands reaching up to run his fingers through Tae's messy hair. He obviously didn't even bother fixing it up since last night,

''I kind of get why Jimin can't unglue his phone from his eyes, anticipating a text is dreadful.. I couldn't focus on anything.'' He sighed in a fake dramatic voice, leaning his head back against the wall. His gaze was in complete tunnel vision for his boyfriend, a grin widening on his lips as he proudly announces his terribly awful joke--.

''If you're gonna keep kissing and praising me like that something else will grow.''

Well, it did have some truth in it.

A raspy laugh emitted from the back of Taehyung’s throat, who shook his head in utter disbelief. By the time the hearty sound gradually quieted down, the elder’s tongue swiped over his still swollen lips; which had yet to simmer down from their previous make out session.

“Oh yeah? What else..?”

Taehyung pressed his thigh against Jungkook’s crotch, playing with his boyfriend’s senses whilst he wore a shameless lopsided grin.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.”

He pressed on it harder, somewhat making out the thick shape of the younger’s cock as he faintly moved his leg, practically kneading the spot in between his boyfriend’s legs.

Acting as if he didn’t just do any of that, Taehyung outstretched his arms over his head, holding back his prickling smile.

“The weather’s lovely today, isn’t it?”

A not so subtle sigh emitted from Jungkook's lips, morphing into a low whine at the way the elders knee massaged his length.

"Oh, fuck off..." he smiled, the light tone of his voice indicating the affection in his curses. His boyfriend surely knew how to tease back-- it must be a revenge from the countless times the younger had teased him first.

"We're gonna end up skipping the entire day if you keep going--" his voice was cut off by another shameless gasp, kooks fingers curling into fists as they grasp Taehyung's shirt to pull him back into a needier kiss, teeth almost clashing together between the heavier breaths, "making me needy" he murmurs his muffled words between their kisses.

Taehyung’s teeth tugged at Jungkook’s bottom lip, lightly nibbling on the soft skin as if asking permission for his tongue to intrude in the pit of warmth. His hands grasp his boyfriend’s waist, roughly manhandling the boy as he pulled him towards his body, deepening his deprived hunger for their kisses.

“Maybe I wanna make you needy.” The elder's velvety voice purred into his ear, one hand placed on the slope of his boyfriend’s nape, drawing him all the more closer.

"But we shouldn't.."

It was too risky, the lust wasn’t worth the hassle.

With a quick glance downwards, Tae’s chuckle rang once more. Their hard-ons were prominently poking at the fabric of their pants and with the little space between them, they inevitably brushed against one another.

“Later tonight. Get ready,” He leaned in to press an innocent kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek, purposely leaning in closer than needed for additional contact, their hardened, clothed cocks pinning together for a teasing second.

“I don’t wanna leavee..” Taehyung groaned in annoyance, finding their alone time to be more entertaining than class.

Jungkook whined in annoyance, a small pout on his lips as his doe eyes stared at Taehyung, "And you call me a tease...." he sighs with a smile, still keeping a tight grip on Taes shirt, hesitant to let go. Eventually, however, he did; instead letting his hands fix Taehyung's mess of a hair once more. Or at least attempt to.

"Let's head back then before I change my mind, I'll drag you to the ground if you even look at me." He scrunch his nose in a giggle, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend on the nose.

Much to their disclosure, they weren’t alone, someone else had been recording their supposedly secret interaction.

What they planned to do with the footage? No one else knew but them. And whatever the outcome was, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

The last class of the day was soon done and over with, making Taehyung ecstatic as he hastily packed his things (packing as in shoving his loose pieces of paper in his backpack), aiming towards the door with hurried steps.

Ever since his last interaction with the younger, Tae’s been awfully.. needy.

His sexual hormones were bouncing off the roof, tauntingly chanting ‘Jungkook, Jungkook,’ again and again until that was all he knew.

As Taehyung made his way to the common common area, he shamelessly wondered if his boyfriend would be up for fucking in his crappy car again.

The elder knew he’d said they would wait until tonight, but ‘tonight’ wasn’t right now.

Damn, Tae would love to try out different positions in such a compact space..

It was thrilling.

Oblivious to him, students’ un-welcomed stares dug holes in his back, watching the boy’s every move with utter shock— utter revelation. It was as if they were the camera lens themselves.

There was no way Taehyung was the other guy in the newly surfaced video, right?

Jeon Jungkook was one of them— for sure. He was unknowingly facing the shot, kissing another boy— who appeared to be Tae— with a bunny grin on his beaming face.

The video started with them making out; Jungkook’s doe eyes fluttered shut as Taehyung held him close, head slightly tilted to the side.

The frame zoomed in on the two boys’ comfortable posture, the elder could be seen rubbing his knee against Kook’s crotch, the latter slyly smiling in response.

Then more kissing, Taehyung whispering little things in his boyfriend’s ear..

To wrap things up, the footage cut off at the soft kiss on the elder’s nose, proceeding to zoom in on their tangled hands whilst they walked out of sight.

It was messy.. to everyone else but Taehyung. He waited for Jungkook in the same area as always, brushing off the ill looks thrown his way.

Jungkook hurried from the lecture room as soon as class was dismissed, backpack thrown over one shoulder as he walked in brisk steps through the hallways-- not as oblivious to the drilling looks coming his way. However, he was rather used to it by now-- so it didn't phase him as much as it probably should..

But then again, why? People haven't looked at him that way since he came out... and he rarely checked his phone, so he was completely unknowing of the circling video.

He shrugged it off, heading towards the common area to find his boyfriend idly waiting for him, the younger opted to jog to close the distance between them & nudged Taehyung on the shoulder.

"Hey! Waited long?" He grinned up at Tae, but it quickly faded as he once again noticed the murmurs and looks of basically everybody around them. Jungkook's eyes roamed the room, but decided to let them land back on Taehyung.

"Lets go?" He started to feel weirdly uncomfortable with all the stares, he wanted to get out of there.

As they headed out, a group of guys-- specifically the jocks that had called Jungkook a f*ggot without him knowing to Tae, had started to whistle and throw slurs towards the boys.

"The fairy put you under his spell huh?" One chanted, the others quickly laughing and motioning taking a dick in their mouth, "Hey, Taehyung! Are you the girl or the guy?!" Another snickered.

The more time they spent displayed in the common area like a plague, Taehyung’s natural obliviousness slowly diminished until all he became was hyper aware of his deafening atmosphere. The murmurs were exceptionally quiet, but they hit his ears like breaking glass.

He mindlessly nodded at his boyfriend whilst he challenged the students’ nosy stares with his own, asserting his dominance over the situation as they aimed for the nearest exit.

Unaware of the next obstacle they were going to have to face, Tae hesitantly parted his sealed lips, about to ask Jungkook the burning question they were both thinking— ‘what the hell was that?’— when Kai and his clique approached them with confident strides.

“W-what..?” Very much disoriented, Tae forced out a strained chuckle, “funny..”

The boy tried to play along with their obvious joke, his awkward laughter blending in with the group’s taunting snickers.

“No, dude..” Haechan amusingly corrected, “who takes a dick up the ass? Who’s the girl in the relationship?”

The elder’s chest shriveled up into an uncomfortable knot, and so did his throat as he was barely able to utter back a word.

What..?

“What— what relationship?” He shakily asked, completely disregarding the other foul comment. Glancing over at Jungkook, the look of fright on Taehyung’s face was evident.

“This relationship,” a phone was shoved into their faces, replaying the invasive video that had been going around all day.

It seemed like it would never end..

Taehyung swore he felt his heart drop.

“Uhm—“

“Fucking disgusting if you ask me.”

“N-no.. it’s just..” His breathing was uneven, eyes blown wide as they stared blankly ahead.

Fuck— this was too much too soon.

By now, a small crowd had gathered around them, only adding salt to Taehyung’s aching panic.

“F*ggot!” One of the guys deliberately spat in the elder’s face— not literally, but it sure felt like it.

Tears rushed to the brim of Tae’s eyes, which had yet to decipher into their normal shape.

He was having trouble breathing, clear in the way his chest vigorously heaved in its place. His face was drained of any color, and the buzzing in his ear was getting hard to bear.

Taehyung hadn’t even noticed their close friends had stepped in on their behalf, Yoongi’s vulgar curses sounding like pure gibberish.

He couldn’t move, it was as if he was glued to his place.

Shit, Tae wanted to disappear.

And so did Jungkook. He was frozen in place as he watched the video, their privacy suddenly open for all to see. Not that he was ashamed of them, but because whether this was a secret or not; it was their moment of privacy, invaded.

Kook quickly glanced over at his boyfriend, mouth parting and closing several times as he struggled to find his words, his worry for the elder growing more important than the worry for what everyone else thinks of him.

He wondered what Taehyung felt... even if it was an invasion of their privacy, he seemed ashamed of them. That didn't go unnoticed.

However he decided to shrug it off, instead focusing on getting them the fuck out of there, tugging at Taes arm.

"Come on." He murmured as he pulled the elder with him, grateful for his hyungs shooing everybody away. He'd have to thank them later; but now all he could focus on was taking his boyfriend out of this situation.

After finally being able to pull Taehyung out of his frozen spot, Kook guided him towards a more secluded area next to the school building to wait until the parking lot would be less crowded.

"Hey," Jungkook softly uttered as he cupped Taes cheeks to try to get in contact with him-- he seemed completely out of it. The younger doe eyes were blown wide with concern.

"Hey, it's okay."

Taehyung didn’t believe that for a second.

It wasn’t okay, their relationship was just outed to the whole goddamn school! What.. what if his father finds out one way or another?

What if he gets ridiculed for the rest of his senior year?

The elder forcefully withdrew from the other’s grainy hands, his cheeks beginning to sting from Jungkook’s touch.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” was the first thing Taehyung muttered, gripping at his hair in agitation. “I-I shouldn’t have.. fuck!”

More fresh tears rushed to his eyes, glazing over the anger that was still present, raven fringe shielding the hurt they obtained.

Jungkook took a step back like he'd been punched in the gut by Taehyung's reaction, his hands falling limp to his sides as he stared at the male in front of him. Tae was almost unrecognizable in Kook's eyes.

''Wha-- Tae, calm down...'' He took a breath of his own, as if trying to take his own advice and remain calm.. But it was fucking hard, it felt like Taehyung was shoving the blame on them, or him for this.

Jungkook curled his hands into fists, unsure what to do when his growing uncomfort hurled over him. He wanted to hold Taehyung, but the elder didn't seem to even want to touch Jungkook, acting like his touch was comparable to fire.

''Taehyung, sit down--''

“Yeah,” Tae scoffed, “calm down..” he boldly mocked the younger, jaw tightly clenched in its place out of anger. Finally, he shifted his anxiety-drunken gaze to his boyfriend’s dimmed eyes, nostrils flared up as his overwhelming emotions once again got the best of him.

“What the fuck is that gonna do, Jungkook?!” He roared in the boy’s face, remaining composure unwinding with every barbarous word.

“The damage is already done! Great, we’re the f*ggots of our school now.”

Taehyung breathed out a soft, saddened laugh, running his hand down his face in boiling regret.

Shit, how much he wished he could go back in time and prevent this bullshit from happening.

“Wha— you were facing the camera anyways, why didn’t you notice?!”

'F*ggots of our school.'

Another verbal punch thrown into the younger's gut, causing him to flinch at the mocking tone. Now it was Jungkook's turn to feel his anger slowly boiling up in his veins that were growing prominent in his arms through the hard, clenched fists to his sides, nostrils flaring as he took deep breaths.

''Why are you blaming me?! I didn't see anybody!'' His voice no longer had any sign of worry, instead laced with frustration. What the fuck was going on with the sudden, undeserved hostility?

Jungkook took a step closer to his boyfriend. ''It's not the end of the world!'

Taehyung stumbled back a couple steps, ensuring there was a noted distance between them.

“I know it’s not the goddamn end of your world!” He angrily retorted back. “but for my fucked up.. trashy, hell of a world it is!”

The elder’s brittle voice wavered, the veins in his neck significantly strained.

“Jungkook.. if— if my father finds out..” The corner of his lip twitched at the mere thought of his worst nightmare, curtly snapping his head to the side when he felt his eyes sting with more tears. Sadly, Taehyung feared for his well being whenever he was around that monster. If he found out that his son was dating another guy...

The elder didn’t want to think about the possible consequences.

“This is—“

“Hey! Guys, we were looking for you..” Jimin and Seokjin ran towards them, gradually stopping midway when they made out the tense aura oozing off of the wanted pair.

Their postures were rigid, and judging from the look in Taehyung’s face, things weren’t looking too good.

“You can get a ride from them, right? I’m leaving.” The elder left Jungkook on his own, unbothered to wait for a clear answer before walking off towards his car, the tightness in his chest having yet to cease.

“Jungkook..” Jimin hesitantly reached out for his friend, resting his smaller hand on the younger’s shoulder.

Jungkook was left speechless at the sudden turn of events, again.

He hadn't even been able to process what the fuck had just happened-- just an hour ago they were excited to go home together, and now Taehyung left the younger alone without even a single look.

Kook flinched when he felt Jimin's hand on his shoulder, not even registering that they were there until Tae was out of sight.

''I'm gonna... uh, walk home.''

God knows he needed it.

''Jungkook, no, let us drive you?'' Jimin tried, but he knew it was useless. Their youngest was obviously upset-- for good reason probably, and his much needed space was understandable.

''Nah, just-- I need to go.'' Jungkook sighed, glancing over at the worried looks of his hyungs, ''Thank you.''

Without another word, Jungkook threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards his apartment, mind constantly replaying the words thrown at him just mere minutes before.

He stepped inside of his apartment, letting his bag fall to the floor along with his jacket, mindlessly kicking off his shoes before slumping down into his couch with a thud, fishing his phone out. He knew he shouldn't, but he pulled up the video circling on the snapchat stories, seeing peoples terrible commentary to the event. Anything from the overused slurs to mocking the two. But what kook truly focused on was the two men in the video, the zoom of their intertwined hands walking off at the end. It hurt to watch-- because he missed Tae’s touch, the mere memory of Taehyung flinching away from his touch made his chest ache.

Should he text him? Jungkook rarely did.. Or did he need time alone? Fuck, he needed to relax. It's fine, right? Like every other fucking time they fought, they'd bounce back.

Jungkook decided to simply put his phone down and go to bed instead, hoping things would have cooled off by tomorrow.

Taehyung disregarded the sound of the familiar alarm, letting him know that it was time to get ready for practice.

He barely slept last night, feeling alienated in his spacious bed. Taehyung had gotten too comfortable with Jungkook, even his own bed felt.. strange, like it wasn’t the right fit. His room— in which he’d spent most of his time hiding— didn’t feel the same, either.

With an unpleased groan, Tae blindly followed the dreadful ring with his ears, finally taking his phone into his hand before putting it on silence.

He didn’t want to get bombarded with judgemental stares during the day. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it. So.. Taehyung didn’t bother to find out for himself. The elder had barely any energy left in him, proved by the way his eyelids threatened to close with every passing second.

Jungkook drowsily turned his alarm off as soon as it rang, arm automatically reaching over out of habit towards the empty space next to him. He sighed deeply. So it wasn't just a fucking dream, then.

He wondered what today would be like.

Hopefully Taehyung had calmed down and rationed things.

But, to the younger's surprise-- Taehyung was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into practice. His eyes roamed the court, craning his neck to find the face he wished to see.

''Hey Kook!'' Jimin chimed, hopping towards his younger friend, ''How are you feeling? Are you okay?''

Jimin put an arm around Kook, leading him towards the anticipating group, their eyes flickering between Jungkook and each other.

''Hey, uh..'' Namjoon began, but was quickly interrupted by Yoongi.

''Where's Taehyung?''

Yoongi flinched at the kick on his shin from Hoseok.

''I, uh...I don't know? I thought he'd be here.'' Jungkook shrugged, masking his obvious worry and frustration. Maybe he just needed more space than Kook thought.

The entire day was dreadful, from enduring all the stares and whispers from what felt like every single student in the school, to attempting to focus in class. It was useless. All he could think about was Taehyung.

Finally, the bell rang-- the younger able to head home, his phone glued to his face on the way. Still radio silence. It wasn't like his boyfriend to go this long without any contact...

When Kook finally got home, he opted to try to send a text:

To: Tae Hey, are you okay?

Jungkook read his text over and over, even added a 'Miss you', but decided to delete that part before hitting send. It was simple, but the least he could do was reach out.

A deep sigh left his lips before he repeated the same routine of worrying, showering, eating a half-assed meal and heading to bed. Tomorrow he'd surely come.

Taehyung spent the majority of the day laying under his covers, safely tucked away from his troubles.

The only excuse for his feet to touch the ground was when he needed to use the restroom, or when his stomach audibly protested for its first bite of food.

He’d seen Jungkook initiate a text, but unlike the previous times, he wasn’t extremely eager to answer.

Even the slightest bit of movement was physically draining.

When his father came home, Taehyung had yet to move from his lying position.

Now he had more of a reason to stay put.

He’d fallen asleep soon after, and by the time Taehyung checked his phone, it was 10:34 in the morning.

Fuck.. well, why bother going to school now, right? His first hour class had already passed.

Taehyung didn’t think about sending one of his friends a text, mind too foggy to act unselfish.

They probably weren’t even worried, and with that incorrect thought in his head, Tae fell back asleep.

If that first day wasn't already long and dreadful, the second day was next level for Jungkook.

Once again, Taehyung hadn't shown up to practice, nor did he show up to school at all.

And it didn't help that his hyungs were up his ass about it too.

'Where's Taehyung?'

'Is he sick?'

'Are you guys okay?'

Were they okay? Jungkook didn't fucking know. He couldn't get a hold of the boy. And to think of it-- the elder hadn't even replied to the text. Worried was an understatement at this point.

Jungkook got through the routines of the day, minutes felt like hours without his boyfriend, and as the day had started to melt together, the bell rang once again, the day over.

He headed towards the common area once more, internally cursing himself out for automatically expecting Taehyung to stand in his usual spot-- only feeling his chest tighten when he wasn't.

Kook walked home slowly this time, oddly enough checking his phone more frequently for any sign of Tae, but to no avail. If he wouldn't show up tomorrow, he'd definitely have to do something about this.

To everyone’s surprise-- Taehyung’s included-- the boy went back to school after his two-day streak of absence. He figured he couldn’t skip out on his remaining months, no matter how tempting it was to just.. vanish. As a side effect of his profound anxiety, Tae was more reserved than usual. He feared getting flooded with any unwanted questions, and his peers’ shameless murmurs only worsened his internal turmoil.

Maybe toughening up was a shitty idea; the second he stepped in those halls the wall he’d built for himself came crashing down.

With his hood shielding him from the outside world, Taehyung walked into the locker room. His steps were far from confident, and to anyone with a pair of working eyes it was obvious Tae was practically pushing himself to not curl up into a ball and feel bad for himself.

The elder feared hearing that word, it was weird in its own way. Whenever the slur was directed towards Jungkook, Taehyung didn’t think twice before throwing a punch. However, when it was meant for him he felt weak. He hated it.

However, nobody had uttered a single word towards Taehyung as of yet, only murmurs amongst themselves-- not even his friends. Not even Jungkook, who kept at a distance as he watched the elder ignore everybody like he was in his own bubble.

Kook was surprised to see him, and still seemingly in a weird state of mind…

Was Taehyung gonna say something? Should Jungkook say something? He felt weird about it-- and the constant glances from everybody else made him hesitate. He didn't want to make it worse..

Instead, the younger opted for throwing quick glances every now and then, hoping Tae would be looking at him as well for any indication that they'd talk. But he got nothing, and it was almost eerie.

It was frustrating as hell.

Jungkook hoped that as the locker room emptied out, Taehyung would stay around for a private conversation, but that was apparently not part of the plan as Jungkook watched the elder turn to leave without a word once more, kook following behind in silence. This day was gonna be long.

The elder failed to make every basket during practice, his aim was off, and his overall stance was stiff. It worried Namjoon, not only because one of his best players was lacking, but because his friend had his head in the clouds.

He’s never seen Taehyung this out of it..

But then again, when someone’s been forced to come out by a silly video roaming around the school, it was reasonable to be scared.

Namjoon just would’ve never guessed Tae was one of the people who were easily affected by useless chatter. He’s always deemed the younger as strong, fearless.

Joon had yet to be proven wrong.

Taehyung showed up today, and the elder found that to be the epitome of bravery.

If he was in his shoes, Namjoon wouldn’t know what to do. Not show his face in school, that was for sure.

In that moment, it had been established that Tae was far stronger than he was.

“Joon, can I get a drink of water.”

He’d been in the middle of a speech when Taehyung interrupted. Usually Joon would’ve scolded him for it, but with the way the morning’s been going, the elder simply nodded like a bobble head.

All watched the gloomy boy step out of the gymnasium, all the while Joon’s eyes were glued on Kook. There was definitely something going on between the two.

Namjoon waited a couple of seconds, anticipating Taehyung’s return.

Either the latter was extremely thirsty, or he used that as an excuse to leave mid practice.

“Uh.. I need someone to fetch me some extra basketballs. Jungkook? Can you do that?”

Really Namjoon was just giving the younger one a reason to chase after his troubled boyfriend, hoping they figure things out amongst themselves.

Jungkook didn't hesitate for even a second as soon as Namjoon gave him a chance at chasing after his boyfriend. A quick, grateful look given to the captain was all he gave before heading out the door, mind still swirling with his thoughts. Anxiety was a bitch, always amplifying and spurring on his worries-- and the way Taehyung was acting didn't help at all.

Jungkook finally found the familiar male bent over the water fountain. A part of him felt relieved just seeing him in the flesh, he wasn't randomly gone-- and by the looks of it, he hasn't gotten hurt..

Before, Jungkook had been hesitant, even cautious to talk to the elder, but after this amount of time, he'd grown tired of this shit. It wasn't his fault, none of this!

"Taehyung." Jungkook breathed the words out, as if he hadn't said them in so long that it felt.. weird, yet familiar. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for his boyfriend to tell him anything. Why weren't they talking this through?

Taehyung’s muscles tensed under the intrusive voice, slowly straightening his posture as he made a great effort to meet Jungkook’s hardened gaze.

“Look.. I’m not in the mood to talk, alright?”

Taehyung attempted to walk around the younger, feeling as if there was a vacuum sucking all the air out of his lungs.

For all he knew, someone could be recording them right now, stepping into their personal problems without an invite.

Jungkook swiftly stepped in front of Taehyung, blocking the way with his wider frame. His eyes squinted in frustration, fingers digging his blunt nails into his own biceps to keep himself as calm as possible. Tae really had the nerve to say he doesn't want to talk?

"Are you serious? I've worried for two days and that's the first thing you say?"

Taehyung breathed out in exasperation, wanting nothing more than to push Jungkook out of his way. The latter was visibly stronger so Tae decided to stay put, at least for now..

“You didn’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.” He mirrored the younger’s stance, arms tensely crossed over his chest.

Jungkooks common ritual of frustration appeared in the form of his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek, the annoyed head tilt following as he tried to read the expression in Taehyung's face. Why did he suddenly feel like a stranger? Why did he suddenly feel like the old Taehyung?

"You're kidding me... stop acting like this, just fucking talk to me!" Jungkook untangled himself from his own arms to place his hands on his hips. "I can't stand the silence."

“Maybe I don’t fucking wanna talk to you! Ever thought about that?!”

The elder’s chest heaved, bigger hands balled up into tight fists at his sides. He let out a shaky exhale, lowering his brittle voice after a few seconds of scraping around for his inner serenity.

“Ever thought about what I fucking wanted?” His fragile tone was a distraction from the deafening silence.

As if Jungkook was a contagious disease, Tae cowardly stepped back.

“I— I tried to please you, Jungkook,” the elder continued, “even when I wasn’t comfortable with— with showing public affection, or letting you hug me in front of other people, I still did it.”

Taehyung shook his head, as if not believing he allowed himself to fall so deep.

“Hell, I wanted to make you happy. I couldn’t say how scared I felt.. or my take on the situation. And you know what? I wish I would’ve put me first.”

More silence..

“I wasn’t fucking ready like you were! I-I just... wasn’t.”

Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, breaking down with every truthful word.

“Maybe if I listened to my gut, none of this shit would’ve happened.”

Jungkook took in every word, each one of them building to his whirl of emotions clashing in his chest. He wasn't sure what to say, arguing with the elder is like talking to a wall sometimes...

He exhaled a shaky breath, eyes averting Taes as he stared down at the ground. A short nod followed, his jaw muscles clenching. Jungkook just wanted them to be good again, but the elder continuously pushes that thought away with his words.

"Fine." He murmurs, no longer feeling the need to speak to Taehyung when all he got thrown at him was blame. He took another step back, slowly distancing himself as well before he would lose his temper-- the urge to fucking punch him was burning. And yet... the other part of him wanted to cry. This entire situation was just pure shit...

Taehyung didn’t build on what he had to say, simply walking around Jungkook now that he seemed more inattentive of his surroundings.

The elder saw the millions of thoughts flashing through his boyfriend’s glazed eyes.

He felt guilty; Tae didn’t particularly get off on angering the younger, or leaving him close to tears. But he had to get that off his heavy chest, he was already short of breath. Leaving the uncomfortable mass to linger would’ve been deadly.

Jungkook took a deep, silent breath as he waited for Taehyung to be out of sight until he came back down to reality. He still didn't entirely get the uncomfortable tension between them. It was so sudden...

Jungkook had to take a moment, fighting his fight or flight instincts telling him to get the fuck out of there. He pushed the emotions down, completely forgetting about the instructions from Namjoon to get the basketballs as he headed back to the court. Hopefully practice was over soon anyway. He just wanted to go home.

The rest of the long day Taehyung spent avoiding Jungkook, succeeding in doing so considering they didn’t share any common classes. Before, that was something Taehyung wished was different.

He wanted to be in the same class as his boyfriend, anything to be close to him.

Now? He was glad that wasn’t the case, it would hurt too much to make eye contact with him from across the room.

Tae’s blurry mind wasn’t on board, however, the younger was all he thought about.

Jungkook was all he knew, in a sense. It felt weird not being able to talk, to send him pestering messages only for Kook to ignore them, picking out the marshmallows in his cereal to give them to him..

It sucked, but Taehyung knew space was the medication they needed.

The elder was up in his room, shaky thumbs hovering above his phone’s keyboard whilst he stalled on Jungkook’s contact.

He’d been thinking about how unstable their relationship was; how they always fought more often than not— how most of their loud bickering was because of something he’d done.

Taehyung didn’t know how the fuck to act in a relationship, he was a piece of shit.

His boyfriend deserved better.. he deserved a guy who’d proudly show him off, kiss him without any fears, hold his hand without worrying about outsiders’ stares. Someone not nearly as messy.

Tae harshly wiped away a stray tear, inhaling softly to stay grounded.

He’d already made up his mind, but /fuck/ was it hard to actually go through with it..

Exhaling, Taehyung quickly typed out the same phrase that’s been haunting him all day, pushing ‘send’ once he was done.

To: Kook I think we should break up.

Taehyung knew that if he read over it once again, he’d lose all courage to end things.

He was only looking out for Jungkook, after all.

On the other end of things, that was the exact opposite of what Taehyung did.

#fic: Love maze #vkook fic #taekook fic #taekook series #vkook series #bts fluff #bts smut #bts series #sombreboy #bts mxm #taehyung x jungkook

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kagehinataboke · 4 years

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I think "Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together." with Kagehina would be an absolutely delight to read!! Could you, please, if you're not busy, write it?? I'd be so happy!!!!! Have a nice day, by the way!!!! Love your writing so much!

i was hoping somebody would do this one, god bless (´⌣`ʃƪ)

"apparently all our friends have a bet going that we’ll end up together." — kghn

***

Hinata stays after practice later than usual. Not by choice, but because he got in trouble for fighting with Tsukishima and sentenced to cleanup duty alone. The only solace he can take is that Suga trusted him enough to give him the key to the gym. Then again, the longer he thinks about it, that doesn’t really make him happy.

“Stupid Tsukishima,” he grumbles under his breath. “Kageyama is the one who picked a fight with him in the first place, and then I took the fall when I tried to help him! Well, that’s the last time I be nice to—“

“What was that?”

“GYAHH!” Hinata stumbles, tripping over his mop and falling backward into the rolled-up net.

Kageyama leans over him with a smirk. “That’s what you get for talking about me behind my back, dumbass.”

“Why are you even here?” Hinata mumbles, picking himself up to collect what’s left of his dignity. “Come to rub it in my face?”

“Actually, I came to help.” Kageyama flick Hinata in the forehead and picks up the mop he dropped. “Don’t thank me or anything. I just felt bad thinking of you cleaning this whole place alone.” He snickers. “I actually thought you might be crying.”

“I’m not!” Hinata glares at him. “And it’s not like you’d actually come to help me on your own. Who told you to? Daichi?”

“Shut up and start cleaning—or do you want to be stuck here all night?”

As much as Hinata wants to argue, he wants to go home even more. His mom’s making curry for dinner, and he really doesn’t want to miss it.

“Fine. I’ll go put the net away. You can do whatever.”

Kageyama ignores him. Hinata picks up the net and storms off, muttering angrily under his breath. “That stupid jerk. Why’d he even show up here if he’s just gonna act like that? You’d think it‘d kill him to be nice to me for two seconds.”

Hinata kicks open the storage room door and struggles inside with the net, which probably weighs more than he does. He nearly gets crushed putting it where it belongs, stumbling and knocking into the volleyball bin in the process. It rolls backward and cracks against the door, pushing it closed with a loud bang.

“Oh, crap.” Hinata drops the net and jiggles the door handle, but to no avail. It’s locked—it always locks on its own if it closes. He forgot to prop it open with something because he was so irritated. “No no no no.” Hinata pauses. “Wait... Kageyama’s still here!” He pounds on the door. “Hey, Kageyama! Can you hear me?!”

There’s no answer. Hinata runs shaking hands through his hair and paces to the back wall. “Crap. What do I do? I left my phone in my bag outside...” He sits down between the wall and the net and tries to calm down. At most, he’ll only be stuck in here for one night. That’s not so bad.

But why isn’t Kageyama answering? He didn’t leave, did he? No: There’s no way he just go would after bothering to stay. Should Hinata try shouting louder?

“Dumbass, what’s taking so long?” Kageyama barges through the door, mop in hand. Hinata starts to call out to warn him, but the door closes before he gets a word out.

“GAH!”

Kageyama sets the mop against the wall. “What’s your problem?”

“The door,” Hinata emphasizes. “Remember that it locks when it closes?”

“Oh.” Kageyama is quiet for several seconds. His shoulders stiffen. “...Oh.”

They both stare at the door in loaded silence for several seconds. Hinata sighs, collapsing back onto the floor. “Now we’ll both be stuck in here until they come in the morning...”

Kageyama sits across from him with a frown. “What are we supposed to do, sleep here?”

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” Hinata sighs and hugs his knees to his chest, shuddering at the cool breeze that blows in from underneath the door. “Ugh... It’ll be impossible to sleep when it’s this cold.”

“Here.” Kageyama throws his track-jacket over Hinata’s head. “Wear this and stop complaining.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“I’m fine,” Kageyama grumbles, but Hinata notices how he’s stiffening his shoulders to conceal shivers.

“Let’s do this.” Hinata scoots closer and lays the jacket over their laps, pressing his shoulder into Kageyama’s side. “Oh, you’re actually pretty warm.”

“‘Cause I was cleaning.” Kageyama shifts under the makeshift blanket. “...Are you really comfortable like this?” he mumbles, uncharacteristically docile.

“Huh? Of course I am. It’s warm like this.” Hinata looks at him suspiciously. “Why are you even asking that?”

Kageyama keeps his eyes trained on the door. “I’m being nice, dumbass.”

“But you’re not ni—“ Kageyama glares at him. “You’re not usually this quiet,” Hinata quickly rephrases. “Is something up with you? You were like this yesterday too. Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick,” Kageyama grumbles. He won’t look up from his lap. He keeps pressing his fingertips together, as if he’s trying to break them. “Yachi told me something a while ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Huh?” Hinata leans closer. “What? What did she tell you?”

Kageyama still won’t look at him. “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we’ll end up together. That’s what she told me. And at first I didn’t understand,” he continues quickly. “It kept bothering me. Why would they think that? What did they see that I didn’t?” He runs a hand through his hair. “But then I started thinking about it. A lot.”

“Didn’t that hurt your head?” Hinata tries to laugh. His palms are sweating, but he doesn’t want to wipe them on Kageyama’s jacket. He isn’t sure how he feels about this, but his heart is racing. It’s not like he’s never thought about the possibility before. They’re always together, and Kageyama is the person on his mind the most. But like most difficult things, Hinata pushed it to the back of his mind and ignored it. Until now.

“Yeah.” Kageyama shifts so they’re sort of facing each other. Hinata’s knees are hitting Kageyama’s shin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I thought about it so much I thought my head would explode, but I think I figured it out.”

Hinata is suddenly all too aware of Kageyama’s hand resting on the floor beside his hip. Of the way his breath hits Hinata’s cheek when he talks. They’re usually close, but this is the first time it’s made him feel nervous. His fingers are shaking under Kageyama’s jacket.

“Is it okay if I try something?” Kageyama asks hesitantly. He’s frowning, as if he’s not quite sure he really wants to try whatever it is.

“Yeah,” Hinata answers, even though he should’ve asked what first. Maybe some part of him already knows.

Kageyama leans forward, pausing for a split second, a hair’s breadth away from Hinata’s lips. The way he’s staring at him so intently makes Hinata even more nervous. This big idiot of a guy has probably never kissed anyone before in his life. Despite his confident staring, Hinata can feel his heart pounding when he puts a hand to Kageyama’s chest.

“You really aren’t good at this,” Hinata mumbles. He grabs a fistful of Kageyama’s shirt and kisses him.

It’s slow and awkward and Kageyama’s lips are cold, but Hinata has never felt so comfortable. This is something as natural as breathing. As natural as playing volleyball. He can’t believe they’ve never done it before.

“Open your mouth,” Kageyama says quietly. His hand moved to Hinata’s waist without him noticing. The other is resting on the top of his thigh.

As soon as Hinata obeys, Kageyama’s tongue moves over his in a wave of heat. Maybe it’s not true that he’s never kissed before, because the way he slowly circles Hinata’s mouth with his tongue is anything but amateur. He feels like he’s melting.

Kageyama’s hand slides up to Hinata’s shoulder, pulling him onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Hinata lets out a sound caught between a sigh and a whine. Kageyama pulls back slightly.

“Are you okay?”

It takes Hinata’s mind a minute to catch up to the words. His face flushes. “I-I’m fine! Why are you suddenly asking me that?”

“I just wanted to make sure.” Kageyama touches his lips gently. “...I kissed you.”

“You don’t have to narrate it!” Hinata covers his burning face. “Geez... You’re such a weird guy.”

“Hinata.” Kageyama grabs Hinata’s hands and lowers them. He’s got that really serious look on his face again. “I want to make something clear.”

“If you say it like that, it scares me...”

“Sorry... It’s just, I have to or I’m afraid you won’t get it.” Kageyama frowns. “I like you. Romantically. And I think I want to date you.”

“Me too.”

“And I know that it will change a lot of— Wait... What?”

“I said me too,” Hinata repeats impatiently. “Kageyama, do you think I would kiss you if I don’t like you?”

“Well, no, but... I didn’t think you’d agree just like that.” He bites his lip. “You’re not just swept up in the moment? You really like me?”

As much as Hinata wants to be annoyed at him, his heart warms at the small giddy smile growing on Kageyama’s face. He really is like a big puppy sometimes.

“I’ll say it properly.” Hinata scoots closer and wraps his arms around Kageyama in a hug that’s perfect for fighting off the cold. “I like you. A lot. So much, it’s crazy.”

Kageyama hugs him back, his hands pressing gently into Hinata’s spine. His shoulder is hot where Kageyama’s cheek rests against it. In the cold, dark silence of the supply closet, Hinata has never felt such an intense warmth.

It’s almost like his heart has caught fire.

#okay so ofc i had to do the trapped in a room together confession cliche #who do you think i am #kagehina #haikyuu!!#hq!!#hq #answered asks #calla.txt

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yuzusorbet · 5 years

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A beautiful and moving fan account of GPF Torino 2019, by a fan who lives in Turin, Italy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY ONE

Yuzu is in my town. Yuzu is in my town. I can’t quite believe it: I’m having breakfast and can’t quite believe it, I go out and can’t quite believe it, I get on the subway and… yes, I start to believe it, since I’m surrounded by Poohs. So many Asian women, so many Skate Canada/FaOI/Continue with Wings bags. When I get off, I can feel the thrill: in less than one hour, I’m going to see Yuzu live! In my town! As soon as I reach the Palavela, I meet other fans: some I met last year in Helsinki, some I never met before, but it doesn’t matter. Here we are, all for Yuzu, all with Yuzu, hoping and feeling and praying and focusing for him and with – and that’s something so strong that all the differences between us – country, age, social/economical/cultural status – disappear. It’s just so beautiful (and important) to be here, together, when Yuzuru is skating at the Grand Prix Final. At last. I find a good seat – mine is not bad, but there are better places where I can settle down and watch the practice – and wait for Yuzu. The arena is not totally full but there are many people here anyway: (nearly) all for Yuzu? A roaring, thunderous shout is the answer: YES! And Yuzu has just appeared… alone. Where’s Brian, or Tracy, or Ghislain? Nobody knows, at the moment. He puts his beloved Pooh on the balustrade, then waits for the Zamboni to resurface the ice, and finally enters the rink: he bends down, touches the ice, and takes off. Yes, I can’t find another way to tell what he does: does he skate? For sure. Does he dance? Definitely. But he flies. The impression is there’s always some room between his blades and the ice, an inch of air allowing him to just float. And the noise he makes on the ice is just so different from the noise made by all the other skaters… you could close your eyes and tell when Yuzu is skating just listening to him. But of course it’s so mesmerizing to watch him: when you see him live, you catch something that you can guess even watching his videos, but that is so strong and obvious here. You can call it aura, or charisma: something so overwhelming that I feel blessed and hypnothised at the same time. The practice goes by very fast. Yuzu skates… what to say? He fell a couple of times; he pops a couple of jumps (one at the beginning of Origin run-through); his skating is so graceful, though, and solid, and pure, that no fall and no popped jump can damage its beauty at all. Moreover, he had so many outstanding moments: all his 4S and 4T and 3A; the 4T-euler-3F sequence; an unusual 3A-3A sequence; the 4Lo he lands (majestic)… and the 4Lz he lands (royal)! Really: as soon as I understand he’s going to jump a 4Lz, I cross all of my fingers and clench my teeth and… and he jumps. Cleanly, beautifully. Never underestimate Mr. Hanyu: I’d better remember Brian’s words. Finally, he cools down. A slow Italian song, Di sole e d’azzurro (“Of sun and light blue”) by Giorgia, is filling the arena. Yuzu gets in tune with it and starts his usual sequence: grand pliés, arabesques, ports de bras… in this moment, he really looks, he is Baryshnikov on ice. I don’t know how he can do it, but he’s able to fill my heart with fire and calm at the same time. Maybe it’s “just” beauty, or poetry. Maybe it’s “just” love.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY TWO: SHORT PROGRAM

How hard it is to write today, I’m not even sure I should. I drink some more tea and check my watch: it’s 11 pm. I should work a bit. Maybe writing will heal my heart a bit, though, so okay, let’s start. Let’s go back to Thursday. The day of the short program. I reach the Palavela at 6.15 p.m. I was here for Yuzu’s practice in the morning – and it was so good: my favourite training outfit (black and grey shirt), some stunning jumps (the 4Lutz!), the impression that he’s floating in kind of a bubble of brightness – and now I’m back. There’s no queue and I get quickly into the arena. There are Chinese fans providing small banners to cheer for Yuzu. There are people gathered at the Edea stand, taking picture by a big poster of Yuzu. There’s an Italian man (a volunteer from the Palavela staff, I’d say) giving out pictures of Yuzu, with a long queue of ladies in front of him. And there are so many Poohs, everywhere. I just love this context, this atmosphere, but I can’t ignore the tension that is slowly making its way inside me. A couple of hours and Yuzu will compete. I can’t wait to see him, but at the same time I don’t want to see him. I want to pay my most heartfelt tribute to the most amazing skater in history, but I know I’ll quake with fear. How can I feel like that for someone I don’t even know personally? I think about that bubble of brightness, the sound of his blades, the grace of his arms, the fire in his eyes: of course I can, for someone like Yuzu.

Time to reach my seat and watch the opening ceremony. Time to wait for Yuzu. A presenter who speaks a bad English – and I wait for Yuzu. Some famous Italian skaters who perform nicely – and I wait for Yuzu. The pairs’ short program – and I wait for Yuzu. Some more minutes. And here he is, for the warm-up. Still alone with his Pooh. Since yesterday , the rumours about Ghislain’s absence are never ending – he had an accident, he’s got problem with his visa, what kind of visa does he need to come to Italy?? – but they end now. Yuzuru is there, and when he takes off his Japan jacket and reveals his costume, he looks like a dream from my childhood: my mother would read me a fairy tale before sleeping, and when I closed my eyes I would think (or dream already) of princes and castles and singing birds and starry nights… and in this very moment, with his costume sparkling like a constellation, Yuzuru is almost the incarnation of that enchanted realm I envisioned when I was young and innocent, and so happy. And I would probably lose myself into that dream, if I wasn’t aware of the fact that the short program is going to start. Yuzuru will be the last one to take the ice. Before, I watch the other five skaters: Boyang Jin, Dmitri Aliev, Alexander Samarin, Kevin Aymoz – and, of course, Nathan Chen. He’s good but not perfect: his 4Lz looks pre-rotated, the exit from his 3A is a bit problematic, the second jump of his combination is short and definitely not effortless. But he scores more than 110 points. Just a handful of hundredths behind Yuzu’s record. What, how, why? I look at Eleonora, an Italian fan sitting by my side, and I know that my face must show the same feelings displaying on hers: awareness and wistfulness. It’s the same old story, isn’t it? As long as Yuzuru and Nathan do not compete directly against each other, Yuzuru’s scores are way higher than Nathan’s; but as soon as they share the same ice, the scoring system seems to turn upside down. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu … He’s on the ice, taking his starting position. The first note of Otoñal fills the arena – nothing else can be heard, not even the occasional coughing here and there. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu, please… Some steps, some transitions, 4S. Natural like a leaf floating in the tranquil stream of a river. Twizzles, 3A, twizzles. Pure harmony. We all wait for the last jumps, the combination. 4T… and no triple. No triple. Manuela and I look at each other. What score will these judges award to this program? To two perfect jumps, and a perfect step sequence, and perfect spins, and an obvious mistake? The answer comes soon: 97.43 points. 13 points behind Nathan. Can Yuzu still win, with these judges? Because I still haven’t look at the protocol, but it’s clear that he didn’t get the points he deserved for the Salchow, the Axel, the spins. And I’m quite sure that, even if he had been perfect, he would have earned something like 111, or 112 – no more than that. And I am sad. And angry. And I need to talk, to talk a lot, like every time I feel sad and angry. It’s a good thing that I’m not alone in front of my PC but amongst hundreds of fanyus, so we can share our sadness, our anger, and talk, talk a lot: while my friend Paolo and I walk to the subway station, while we find out that the subway isn’t working at the moment, while we call a taxi, while we share the fare with two Germans and a Japanese… …but as soon as I get off the taxi and start walking home, all my sadness and anger calm down. They don’t disappear; they just shrink to give room to something – someone – much more important: Yuzu. I wonder how he’s feeling now. Mad at himself, disappointed, too tired to feel anything else than an urgent need to just go to bed and sleep? And Ghislain is not there… Oh, Yuzu, how I would like to do something for you; something useful, not only feeling this dull pain in my chest and complaining about the scores. If only I could, I would give you a hug – to comfort you, to protect you. Or maybe I would take your hand and take you to the Po river. It’s quite close, you know? And there’s a beautiful park, called Valentino, with meadows descending gently to the water. We would watch the river flow for a while, talking only if you wished to, then I would take you to Fiorio. Have someone told you about this ancient café in the centre of Turin? There are old huge mirrors, armchairs in red velvet, big rococo chandeliers, and a creaking wooden floor; we could sit there, order a hot chocolate or their famous gianduia (hazelnuts +chocolate) ice-cream; and for a few moments, for only a few moments, you could close your eyes, savour that new, creamy taste on your tongue, and forget about those damn 13 points, that damn combo… but probably you don’t want to forget, do you? You want to understand what happened, and why, and plan what you have to do now. Just don’t spend the whole night watching your SP again and again, right? Oh God, I sound like an old auntie. I open the door of my apartment. Sadness and anger are like a faint but constant throb in my stomach. Will I be able to sleep, tonight? I’m not sure, but it’s not so important. What’s important, is that Yuzu can sleep, and Ghislain arrives in Torino, and the judges come to their senses. Have sweet dreams, Yuzu, my wonderboy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY THREE: QUAD AXEL

Fear. Joy. Worry. Fury. Emotion. What a day, the third day of the Grand Prix Final. And yet, it was supposed to be a quiet day, for us fanyus: no competition, only some practice. When it comes to Yuzu, though, quietness looks scarily like a storm, and there’s nothing we can do about it: there’s no way to be even remotely prepared to all the ideas, visions, plans and dreams that cross Yuzu’s mind and that he chooses to act out. That’s why I’m more or less calm, when I get to the Palavela. “More or less” because I had a tough night: I kept on tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about the short program, constantly grabbing and turning off my phone – eager to read anything the web could provide me about it, and scared by possible haters and nasty posts. So now I’m still sad and angry, but also too tired to have very strong feelings: sadness is a dull, feeble pain in my chest, anger a whisper that I try to ignore. I queue, get inside, talk with some friends. A few minutes, and Yuzu appears. Alone with Pooh: so Ghislain hasn’t arrived yet. Gosh, it’s all so wrong. The scores, the absence of Yuzu’s coach… we are in the middle of the Grand Prix Final and there were a bunch of bad omens already. No, I don’t want to be so negative. Yuzu needs to feel, to breath optimism and trust. Think positive, Alessandra; for the sake of Yuzu, think beautiful, think glorious! But it’s Yuzu, the one who’s beautiful and glorious. I always loved all kinds of practices and rehearsals: when some ballet company comes to my town, I always try and ask permission to attend a class, or some rehearsal. I love to see a work in progress, and all the commitment and efforts that artists, dancers and athletes put into their performances. No costumes, no lights, sometimes not even music: just the focus, sweat and love needed to succeed. When practicing, Yuzuru is like that, of course, but he also has – is – something different. The way he can look incredibly focused – and actually a bit dangerous – and turn suddenly into a playful child. The long talks he has with himself. His ability to ignore all the people watching him, just to thank everyone with a deep bow. His unexpected smiles, his gloved fingers pointing here and there while he’s planning and calculating who knows what. The lightness of his warm-ups, the grace of his cool-downs. When you watch him practice, it’s like watching a painter create a masterpiece right in front of you: his (sometimes bizarre) rituals, his methods, some surprises, the development of his work – art coming to life stroke by stroke, bit by bit: and you realize how big the privilege is to witness greatness in the making. So, warm-up. Jumps. No spins (has Yuzu ever done a spin in any practice?). Run-through. Other jumps. And then. He has just tried a new sequence for the free skate, 3A3A; so, when he skates in my direction, I think that he will try that sequence again: oh yes, he’s preparing an Axel. Then he throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet. Ouch, I hope it was not painful as it looked… he skates around the rink, then again in my direction. Does he want to try the Axel again? He throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet… Wait. He’s not popping his jumps. He’s jumping like this on purpose. And he jumps so high. Okay, his Axels are always very high, but now he’s really taking off as if he wanted to touch the roof with his fingers! I turn to Lys and Giovanna, who sit behind me. We look at each other, knowingly. Yes. Yuzu is practicing the 4A. As if he wanted to confirm what we’re thinking, he throws himself into the jump again, but this time he doesn’t pop it: he rotates it. One rotation, two, three, four… he lands before completing the last half turn, crashing on the ice. A collective gasp runs through the audience, someone screams, I grab and squeeze Lys’ calf in my hands. Oh God, Yuzu, stop it. Oh no, Yuzu, don’t stop it, let me see it again. No no no, on the contrary, don’t do it, be careful. Well, be careful but try once again… and he tries: another jump, under rotated as well, another fall. The audience is hypnotized. Someone shouts, someone cries, but it sounds like nobody could break the silence surrounding Yuzu. He seems alone now, as if no skater was in the rink but him. He skates in my direction again, and I count every second, one two three four five, until he jumps again. One rotation, two, three, four… and a half. Four and a half. Then he lands and crash on the ice again. But he made it. He has just jumped a quad Axel.

And the Palavela explodes. Shouts, cries, applause, people standing, people frozen in their seats, people scared, people happy, people who don’t fully understand what happened, but we all sense the truth: today, we were so lucky to witness history in the making. The practice is over, and Yuzu exits the rink followed by the loudest applause ever – and the longest too: our jubilation began way before he took his bows. When he disappears, everybody starts talking about his 4A. Someone’s almost mad at him (“I hope his mom is going to slap some sense into him!”), someone’s reverently astonished (“Have you seen the height of that quad? How much it was, about 95 centimetres?”), we all look on the edge of a nervous breakdown. It was supposed to be a quiet day, wasn’t it? But we should have known better than this. Because it’s Yuzu, and Yuzu always wants to climb higher walls, to aim for wider goals; to go beyond the horizon of what is possible for us, normal human beings. And this is one of the reasons why he is who he is; this is one of the reasons why we love him so much. There are winners, but he’s a champion. There are athletes, but he’s a history maker. And I left the Palavela with tears in my eyes, vibrant love in my heart.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FOUR: FREE SKATE

So here I am, not really ready for… how should I call it? The showdown? Maybe. Who are the main characters in this fight, though? Yuzu and Nathan? Yuzu and the judges, more likely. And I’m not sure it’s going to be a fair fight. No matter if the knight in his shining armour has a marvellous sword made of an outstanding technical value and of wonderful components: his opponent can be petty and play dirty, and only in fairy-tales Good always triumphs over Evil. The free skate is about to begin. The morning has been long and tiring already: we all had to queue in the dark and in the cold before Yuzu’s practice at 7 am (thank God I met some friends, like Petra and Astrid, so that I could talk a bit and I didn’t have to queue by myself, alone and anxious), then there was a collective scream when Ghislain made his appearance in the arena (he’s here! He’s here! FINALLY!!), then… well, then there was Yuzu’s practice, and watching Yuzu live is always an unique experience, no matter what he’s doing: it’s like when you’re a child and for the first time you see something unknown which surprises and bewitches you – Peter Pan is on stage and Tink is going to die, unless you clap your hands and shout: “ I do believe in fairies!”, full of emotions and on the brim of tears… After the practice I went home, walked my dogs, worked a bit: everything just to keep anxiety at bay. Now I should be tired, and probably I am; but I’m too nervous, and I have too much adrenaline running in my blood, to feel tired. I just want to see Yuzu skate. I just want to see Yuzu happy with his performance. I just want to see Yuzu win? Of course: because I want him to be happy, and I know how important for his happiness it is to win; because he’s the best skater in the whole world, and I’d like him to be acknowledged as the king he is. But CAN he win? I’m afraid not. I’m afraid that he can win only if Nathan falls, more than one time and quite hard: not just with his hands or his knee on the ice, but with his whole body… is that what I want? Do I really want Nathan to fail so badly? I wish I could instantly say: no, of course I don’t want it. But I must confess that I can’t, and I hate this unfair scoring system for this reason too: because it awakens the darkest part of me, and pulls out of me my worst feelings and thoughts. I’ve seen so many figure skating competitions, and I’ve always hoped that all the skaters could skate clean – may the best win! Since the 2018-2019 skating season, though, as the new scoring system showed more and more its limits and its unfairness, I found out how hard it is for me to go beyond my own limits, to be fair and good. So, while I’m waiting for the skaters to make their appearance in the arena, I try to think “May the best win”, but I’m not convinced. Nathan, I’m sorry, but could you please fall? Not too hard, okay, but could you undoubtedly, unquestionably fall? Or at least make several obvious mistakes, so that the so-called judges can see who’s the real king of figure skating? Oh, God, I hate myself. I have no time to blame myself, though: the music signalling the beginning of the competition suddenly resounds in the whole arena, louder than ever, and the lights go down. While the speaker is announcing what we’re about to see, there’s a collective start: the skaters are gathered just outside the rink. In the dim light I can’t tell who’s who, I just see some distant heads, but I recognise Yuzu immediately. I can’t see his features very well, but I could recognise him even if he was amongst a thousand people in the dark. The simple way he stands is so peculiar. So elegant. And when he enters the rink for the warm-up and bows to the audience, he looks so noble and proud: he’s aware that all eyes are on him, all hearts are with him. Is this awareness giving him strength? Or is it a burden? In a moment like this, when there’s so much at stake for him, I would like – I would need – how I should behave to help him as much as possible. Screaming his name until I lose my voice? Clapping my hands politely and nothing more? If only I could know the answer; if only I could be of use for you, Yuzu… …and the warm-up is over. Already? Yes, already. And I cannot watch the first four skaters, not really, because I’m waiting for Yuzu, and skater after skater my heart beats faster and my hands get sweaty and cold. I’m so full of fear, and anticipation, and love. May the best win: may Yuzu win. And there he is. So handsome that watching him I feel my eyes burn like when I try and look at the sun. May Yuzu win. So dear to my heart that I want to see him but somehow I can’t stand seeing him, so I put a hand on my eyes and watch him through my fingers, just like a child watching a scary movie. May Yuzu win… 4Lo: perfect. 4Lz: perfect as well. 3Lz: perfect again. 4S: per-fect… I’m watching the competition live so I can’t see how the judges are scoring each element of Yuzu’s skate, and I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse; anyway, so far he’s been outstanding, the judges have to give him very high GOE… 4T+euler+3F. Step out, maybe the 3F was a bit under rotated? Come on, Yuzu. 4T+…2T. He’s tired. But the quad was fantastic. Come on, Yuzu, you can do it, only the sequence 3A+3A is missing… alright, here comes his trademark, the counter back, and then… single Axel. Okay Yuzu, it’s okay, just go on, go on! Last spin. Final pose – and Yuzu can’t take it anymore, he’s so tired that the final pose lasts for less than one second, then he puts his arms and forehead on the ice, gasping for air. This is not an asthma attack, right? For a moment, I gasp for air too. Then Yuzu stands up, and bows to the audience, and I go wild like everyone else here, I scream, I cry, I throw my Winnie the Pooh on the ice, I clap my hand, I lose any awareness of myself – lost as I am in Yuzu, burning with pride and emotion. Yuzu, you made it. Five, five perfect quads, and one was that fated 4Lz. Okay, your skate wasn’t completely clean, but it was so special, and so much more than a simple “skate”: it was so full of humanity, and struggle, and glory. It wasn’t just a performance: it was a tale, and how beautifully you told it. How unforgettably.

Yuzu and Ghislain sit in the Kiss&Cry forever. Considering that picking up all the Poohs took a long while, it’s clear that the judges are having trouble with Yuzu’s score. Why? Why? The first answer coming to my mind flows directly out of the worst part of me: because they are probably looking for elements they can underscore. Oh no, please, no… “The score, please,” the speaker says. And here it is. 194 points. Technical score, 100.36; PCS, 93.64. This is not a score. This is a joke, and I can’t stand it anymore. Because I know, I simply know that Nathan will not only win, but he will set a new world record, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the judges give him higher PCS than Yuzu’s. I’m sorry, usually I’m not so mean; right now, though, I just can’t sit here, be polite and show any kind of sportsmanship. Those so-called judges have just humiliated the most amazing person in the whole world, and I can’t stay here and watch them play their foul game anymore. So I stand up and run out, and to hell this competition and its rules and everything. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I meet other people: some Asian women who don’t want to talk, and two girls from Los Angeles. They’re even angrier than me, and for the three of us it’s a bit soothing to share our indignation and to spit out all the rage we are feeling. If only our rage could be useful, somehow… it isn’t, though: in a few minutes we get to know that, of course, Nathan won, and that, of course, he set a new world record. So I was right, and I couldn’t be less proud of my foresight. Waiting for the victory ceremony is hard. As my friend Jacqueline and I queue at a café, rage gets less and less burning, turning into a heavy burden of bitterness. Will there ever be a way out of this shameful situation? A squad of incompetent (corrupted? Hopefully not) judges, an International Union doing nothing to promote fair competing and judging, and Yuzuru paying the biggest price. The whole queue, the whole Palavela is talking about it, but what for? We can’t change anything. We can only go back to our seats and cheer for Yuzu, make him feel how much we are proud of what he has achieved today – because that’s the truth: no matter how much the judges underscore him, no matter how many times they make him lose a competition, he’s the greatest skater of all time. It’s his technique that coaches refer to when they need to teach their skaters how to do a perfect jump/spin/transition; it’s him the one who always tries new combinations, new moves; it’s him who forced the ISU to change the rules in order to keep up with his greatness; it’s him who yesterday – just yesterday! – showed us that the 4A is possible. Only. Him. Time for the victory ceremony. And what a weird ceremony is this one. Not a single clap for any representative of any skating association, from ISU to the Italian Federation. People clap their hands for Kevin and Nathan, that’s it. For Yuzu, instead… for Yuzu, there’s an acclamation. This is not only a tribute to what he did here: this is a declaration of love and, at the same time, a battle cry. Yes, Yuzu, we love you, and we stand by you, and we will fight as much as we can to make those “experts” - those idiots who presume they have the right to judge you and humiliate you – acknowledge your magnificence. Our battle cry is so loud and never ending that Yuzu himself is astonished, overwhelmed, and points to Nathan as if he was saying “Thank you, but look, he’s the winner”. You are right, Yuzu: Nathan is the winner, yes. In our hearts, though, you won so much more than a competition. You came here, you fought your limits and fears (the 4A, the 4Lz, 5 quads plus transitions plus skating skill plus musicality plus grace), and you prevailed. You’re not only a king: you are a warrior king. The arena is full of signs with the writing “Unfair judgment”. For the first time at a competition, I hear boos from the audience. Okay, Yuzu. Let the battle start.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FIVE: NOTTE STELLATA

It’s 9.30 a.m. and the Pellerina looks peaceful and welcoming. It’s a big park in western Turin, and I came here with my dogs to find some rest. After four days of Grand Prix – four days of Yuzu – I feel like a kaleidoscope: full of whirling colours, hypnotic spirals, and surprising patterns. It’s amazing, but it’s exhausting too. There are three ponds here, a big river and so many trees, and birds. I think you’d like the Pellerina, Yuzu; maybe you’d like all of my town. Its numerous parks, the long tree-lined avenues, the creamy colour of its buildings from the XVIIth and XVIIIth century. I would have loved to be your guide, allowing you to take a break from the mad, unfair competition that this GPF has been. I can’t even start to imagine how much tired you are, and it would have been nice to take you out – it would have been magic to see you here, walking under the trees, looking at the ducks in the ponds, smiling while my dogs play and run freely… but you prefer to stay at the Palavela, don’t you? Walking around the rink where Plushenko won in 2006, looking at the Olympic rings on the wall, chatting with your fellow skaters. Are you rehearsing for the gala? I hope you’re having fun. I check my watch: 10.15; it’s time to go. The gala will begin at 2 p.m., but I want to get to the arena at about 12 and spend some quality time with my friends. Actually, surviving the rollercoaster of this GPF would have been much harder, without all the lovely fanyus around me. Yesterday, after the medal ceremony, some members of our fan group met at the Edea stand inside the Palavela; it was so crowded and narrow and noisy, but ranting all together about the judges, praising Yuzu and taking pictures were exactly the things I needed to forget my sadness for a while, to turn my anger into good energy. Then Jacqueline and I went to Eataly, a famous restaurant and supermarket, and drank our bitterness away, turning quickly from being fans to being friends (and a bit drunk). Then… Eleonora, Petra, Linda, Shuko, Rory, Mara, Astrid, Barbara, and many others with whom I talked so much, inside and outside the Palavela, and stuck together through hope and rage, pain and love. Paolo, my faithful travelling (on many subway trains) companion. Lys and Carolina, who spent countless hours talking and crying and hugging and laughing and cursing with me. All the unknown fanyus in the audience, when we melted into one body with thousands of voices to scream out loud our love for Yuzu. It was a treat, and an honour, to meet so many beautiful people, and I know that as soon as the gala is over – as soon as I say good-bye to them all – I will feel empty, somehow, and alone. I drive back home, feed my dogs, then I’m ready to go to the Palavela for the last time… for the last time? I can’t quite believe it: from tomorrow on, I won’t see Yuzu every day. This week has been tough, but so intense: the thrill of the competition, for sure, but most of all the spell that Yuzu put on anyone watching him. His commitment, the 4A, his beauty, the stunning comeback of the 4Lz… I’m bewitched. And I’m pampered too, now that I’m (almost) used to see him so often: me wants Yuzu every day! The queue is endless as usual – I wait for my turn, apologizing silently to all the people here for how very badly this event was organised – but finally I’m able to get in. With other fanyus, I wonder which exhibition program Yuzu is going to skate: Haru Yo Koi? Yes, Yuzu must be so tired, he will rather skate something not too physically straining. Masquerade? Well, many of us would love to see it live… some time before the gala, though, we find out that he’s going to skate Notte Stellata. Oh yes, it makes sense: he’s in Italy, in an Olympic venue, of course he has chosen the Italian song he skated to in Pyeongchang. Now that I think of it, it’s always like that with Yuzu: we always try to guess what kind of music/program he will choose for the new season/an exhibition and he always surprises us, even though his choices are perfectly sensible. And I must confess that any choice would be great for me: I’m quite sure I could watch Yuzu doing cross-overs for half an hour and I wouldn’t get bored. Notte Stellata… I never saw it live. Will it be an experience as strong as it was seeing Haru Yo Koi in Helsinki? Yes, it is. So much that, after seeing it, I will forget all the other performances. So much that, while seeing it, I cry. Usually I’m not the crying kind, but watching Yuzu float like a swan on a frozen lake brings tears to my eyes. Yesterday, after the free skate, a friend of mine wrote me this message: “Each movement seems to take him beyond the limits of his human body and to emanate grace and elegance, filling your eyes and lingering in the air even as he glides into a new step”. I also think of what the Olympic commentator said about this program: “With one delayed single Axel and one triple Axel, Yuzuru Hanyu, double gold medallist, just gave a masterclass on what figure skating actually is”. Yes, that’s what figure skating actually is. Going beyond one’s physical limits on a quest for grace, elegance, and beauty. Giving goose-bumps and tears to each and every witness of this travel from what’s known to the unknown, from sport to art. What figure skating actually is, is Yuzuru Hanyu. His last spin goes on and on, even if there’s not music anymore, just like Yuzu will go on and on: in our memory, in our heart, in the history as well as in the future of this sport. And while I scream at the top of my lungs, and clap my shaking hands, I thank Yuzu: for these five days in Turin. For how alive and privileged I’ve felt. For showing me that there can be greatness even in defeat. Ganbatte for Japan Championships and for the rest of your skating season, Yuzu, but don’t worry: somehow, you are always, always, the winner.

--written by Alessandra Montrucchio (in Yuzuru Hanyu International Fan Group on FB), re-posted here with her permission. Pics belong to original owners.

#gpf torino 2019 #Yuzuru Hanyu #thank you so much Alessandra

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authoressskr · 5 years

Text

Write Into Your Arms [4]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Thor, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in and out of last couple chapters), Action (3rd chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)

Word Count: 11,560 :: Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small-time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 3]

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Sleeping alone the last few nights had taken forever and you feel it begin to take its toll.

You’re still scrubbing a hand over your exhausted face as you tottle into the kitchen. Happy is making a smoothie, the grinding noise immediately grinding on your nerves at the shitty sleep you had gotten.

What if you screwed up and now you needed someone to sleep with after the attack? With that someone being a certain blue-eyed Sergeant…

You shove that thought away for a later time as you climb onto a barstool.

“Smoothie? Banana and strawberry - got some blueberries in there too. A little protein powder to kick it up a little.” Happy is far too chipper for you this early, but you force a smile at him. It’s not his fault you slept so bad.

“Sure. I’ll take whatever.”

“Granola?”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there, Happy. Only one healthy thing at breakfast at a time.” You push yourself out of the barstool to look in the fridge nearly cursing aloud when you see the milk is gone. All three fucking different kinds. “Ugh. I guess I’ll have some granola, Hap.”

“Yogurt?”

“Yes, sir.” You look around the empty kitchen. Weird. Extra weird. “Where is everyone?”

“Steve, Bucky, Sam, Carol, Hope, Scott, Shuri, and Peter all went for a morning run. They should be back in about half an hour. Tony and Pepper headed to the Tower to handle some paperwork and meetings. Okoye is in the conference room with a call from Wakanda. Bruce, T’Challa, Vision, Thor, Rocket, and Nebula are in the big lab - doing what, I don’t know. Not sure I want to know. Quill and Drax are presumably still sleeping on the ship. Gamora and Wong are sparring in the gym with Natasha, Wanda, and Clint. I assume Strange popped out, but again, can’t say for sure. Don’t have a clue where Rhodey is either. Mantis, Groot and Valkyrie are walking the grounds.”

“Valkyrie?!” You gasp around a mouthful of granola. “When did she get here?!”

“Thor went and got her. Said it would cheer you up after the Incident to see the King of Asgard.”

“Aww. He’s too sweet!” Well, that was beyond thoughtful!

“Yeah, he’s a great guy,” Happy leans on the countertop, looking you dead in the eye, “So what are you and Barnes doing? Just ask him out. Everyone is betting on it happening and if you do it today, I get $500 extra dollars from Rhodey and an extra couple grand from Tony.”

“What the hell, Happy?! Not cool, buddy.” You hiss at him, shocked at his words. Not terribly surprised, since there was a building full of bored superheroes who all operate real money like a toddler with a fistful of Monopoly money.

“What? You like him, he likes you. I don’t see a problem. You two shared a bed, he’s been following you around and taking pictures of you, he’s got a nickname for you...the two of you are constantly brushing against each other now. I could go on…” He waves his hand in a forward motion, making you frown. Bucky was taking pictures of you? And following you around? And you hadn’t noticed either of those things? Had he been the one to take your camera?

“Thanks for breakfast, Happy.” You manage not to snap the words out and also manage not to stomp back to your room. But once there, you hover just past the closed and locked door.

What to do now?

You feel a need in your chest. Maybe you need the relief crying brings? And it’s this thought that makes you wonder: Is it the lack of sleep? Is it the back and forth with Bucky? Is it the fact you are seemingly so easy for all of them to read? How had you let this happen?

You let them draw you out of your bubble while mooning over the former Winter Soldier...

Your emotions were too over the place right now but you knew what you needed to do: finish up these interviews and get the hell out before you got your heartbroken.

Although you feared it was already badly bruised by this decision.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Doll?” Bucky draws her out of her thoughts, your eyes just staring out over the empty gym. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been sort of out of it since yesterday. Do you need to, ya know, talk to someone?”

“No,” You give him a tight smile. “Just lost in my thoughts.”

“Maybe you need a break?”

“I need to finish the interviews.” Bucky takes your hand in his gently, his thumb rubbing along the back of your hand. He had barely seen you yesterday and it worried him.

“I think you need a break, beautiful. You were staring off into space and the only reason I knew you were in here was because I heard you sigh.”

“It’s just so much more difficult with them! And I don’t know why!” You flip open your notebook, pointing to the interview with Rocket you just finished, angrily jabbing at the offending page. “Rocket doesn’t remember where he’s from or where he escaped from exactly and he’s defensive about it. Won’t discuss it at all. Which is fine. Really!” Another sigh escapes you. “But every other question I ask he just scoffs at. Plus he’s throwing a lot of alien terms out when he talks about what he does, which I then have to have him explain. That just leads to him complaining and that just takes time from the interview.”

“Rocket might be better with someone like him to keep him straight. I’ll talk to Tony about it, okay? Did you have lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Well we should -” She withdraws her hand from his, Bucky’s chest tightening at the action.

“And I’m not hungry. Thank you though, Bucky. I’m just going to go find Valkyrie. Maybe she’ll be easier to interview.” She collects her things quietly, slipping from the room as Bucky sits there a bit bewildered.

Yesterday she hadn’t really spoken to anyone and he’d felt bad for not spending more time with her. They’d taken extra time on the morning run to help the vineyard owner with their vintage truck that had broken down on the road. And when they’d gotten home and showered, Thor had just been going on and on about his wonderful interview to Bruce, Scott, and Stephen. Bucky had shot the god a dirty look before clenching his jaw so hard he was sure he heard a pop.

Bucky had figured she would have already been up, about and ready to interview. And she had just one interview that day; Quill.

He’d given her a tour of the ship and then they stayed on board while they did the interview - Bucky seated by one of the big windows closest to the patio forcing himself every so often to unclench his jaw and relax his fisted hands as he waited not-so-patiently for them to return to the compound.

He knows the Guardians are different than the Avengers, a little more avant-garde and rough around the edges - okay, a lot more - but he also knows they’ll do the right thing. Most of the time. And Tony has reminded him that he needs to trust them with her.

But he doesn’t want to.

He exits the gym just as quietly as she did, determined to track Steve and Tony down. You needed the Guardians to work with you so you could do a good job on the interviews. That’s when he passes by the conference room, your voice drawing him from his thoughts and making him pause.

“I’m glad with the results, Lina.” You have the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, scribbling in your notebook with a little frown.

“No, Lina, I’m not going to do that.”

“Yes,” You huff out angrily. “I am aware I don’t sound like myself.”

“No! I’m not going to just throw in the towel and go home!” He watches you run your fingers through your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

“I will get through these damn interviews if it kills me.”

“I’m so fucking tired. My emotions are everywhere. Bucky just found me staring off into space. I need some sleep. I need a drink. I need to stop feeling guilty for badgering them with questions, eating their food and wearing the very expensive clothes Tony got me. I need something else but I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s not homesickness. I just want -” You pause. “I don’t even know what I want.” It’s a whisper, your confession, and it makes his chest squeeze tighter. He stops eavesdropping and continues to go find Tony and Steve, calling out to FRIDAY once he’s out of earshot, determined to make you feel better - like before.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Valkyrie is a blessing from above.

You honestly almost burst out in tears at her calm, concise demeanor and frankness.

She’s whip-smart, unafraid to speak her mind, and witty to boot. She offers you a drink as soon as you sit down, making you shake your head no. You really don’t need to drink in the mindset you’re in right now. Then again… No. No, better not.

“Were the Valkyries on Asgard anything like the ones written about here on Earth?” She snorts at your question, taking a long pull from her beer bottle before tossing herself into the oversized blue chair in her room.

“No, not at all. There are a few similarities, but we weren’t sewing and making bullshit tapestries of the humans ‘great battles’. We were warriors. When we weren’t honing our skills, training Valkyrie hopefuls or drinking, we led normal lives on Asgard. Our leader sat in on meetings with Odin, we helped patrol the city in times of uncertainty, we courted and loved...we were strong.” She leads off, looking away from you.

“And then Hela came?” Your words are soft, the look in your eyes even softer.

“And then Hela came. First, she destroyed my sisters, my family, my friends. Took everything from me. And then she came again. Like a ghost from the past, I had hoped never to lay my eyes on again.” She swallows before pursing her lips slightly, tapping her thumb idly against her bottle. “Only this time she killed our people and destroyed our home. This time she nearly took everything again. But Asgard is a people, not a place. And I survived to see her die, so I feel I was able to avenge my sisters in a way.”

“I think they’d be glad to know she’s gone and can’t hurt anyone anymore.” She nods once before leaning back in the chair. “To think, a lot of things might have gone differently if Odin had been honest.” Valkyrie snorts in agreement before taking another drink. “Asgardians seems to have some pretty big secrets.”

“That’s what happens when you live so long, little poet,” Valkyrie winks before shuffling down a bit more in the chair.

“I suppose so,” You raise an eyebrow at the nickname, agreeing to her words with a little shrug before diving into your other questions. Asgardians nickname you FAST.

Asking about New Asgard, about being King, and about what she misses most about her sisters distracts you from your thoughts of failure on your other interviews and from Bucky, who had been so nice to you, but hadn’t really tried to touch you in the last two days until just before in the gym. He seemed to be distracting himself just as much as you are and it slightly pisses you off that he still feels guilty over what happened. But the anger always dissipates nearly as soon as you recognize it, knowing you aren’t angry - but something else. If only you could fucking figure out what that something else was...

“Something you like about Earth?”

“Variety,” She says with a grin that has some flirty overtones, chuckling when your eyes widen ever so slightly. “Ya know,” She begins, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I could help take your mind off whatever troubles you, little poet. We can get Bruce or Thor if that makes you feel better.” She reaches out to pat your knee affectionately and while this isn’t the first time you’ve been propositioned - by a man or woman - this was the first time others were offered as part of the deal. And unlike the others, you don’t feel leery of Valkyrie. What she’s offering is honest and upfront, with no side agenda like the men always seemed to have. You were slightly shocked you still felt comfortable with her after she suggested that. Now you kind of wish Bucky would suggest that, but you know that would hurt your heart more when you had to leave.

“Thank you for that. But I don’t have sex with people I’m interviewing.” Her grin never leaves her face.

“That’s alright. I’ll ask again when you’re done with your writing and interviewing,” You can’t help smiling at her tone, so self-assured, feeling her hand at the small of your back as she heads towards her bedroom door with you. “I wouldn’t sleep with Thor but I think you’d enjoy it. Bruce, I might be tempted to, but I like the Hulk better, but I know he would see to your pleasure. But I know you’ve got your eye on the metal-armed super soldier.” You look at her, the question must have been crystal clear in your eyes, along with the shock of her talking about Bruce and Thor’s sexual prowess. “We all see it. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you. I find it adorable you are so shy, easy going and easily flustered. Not to mention attractive. So I understand why the Sergeant glares at everyone who gets a little too close, touches you a little longer than appropriate here on Earth.” Sort of like now...

“Thank you for the compliments, Brunhilde.” Her eyebrow arching smoothly with surprise. “Thor didn’t tell me - I just did my homework and guessed,” A small sigh escapes your lips after your victorious smile. “I thought we took a step back after the attack but I also thought he would make a move after we smoothed that out. But I’m still waiting. And I’m tired of initiating too. I-I-I’m just not very good at this.” You gesture between yourself and the closed door and then between yourself and Brunhilde.

“Don’t worry, little poet. I’ll help you out. You don’t need to do anything. We can give him the kick in the pants he needs.”

“But,” She drops her hand, lifting it to squeeze your free hand at your soft tone. “I don’t want him forced or coerced. I want him to want me and act on it.”

“And that’s what you deserve, little poet,” And she kisses your cheek tenderly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::xxxxxxxxxx:::

“Alright, listen up, freeloaders!” Every head snaps towards Tony. “Apparently our new housemates aren’t treating our writer well.”

“How is that our fault? You all are the ones who tossed her outside to fend for herself!” Quill shouts back, pushing himself out of his chair to stand before Bucky growls at him across the table.

“Look, we aren’t at a damn cantina in space - so I need you to pull your heads out of your asses and for fuck’s sake stop flirting with her,” Tony glares at Quill. “And stop making her feel stupid for not knowing your space jargon, Mr. Build-A-Bear,” Tony points to Rocket, “or butting into others interviews,” Tony gestures towards Drax who looks to his left at Nebula, who rolls her eyes. “No, not her, Drax. You!” Drax points to himself.

“I didn’t interrupt anyone.”

“You interrupted me! How am I supposed to make a move on her when you’re in the ship butting in?”

“She isn’t here for you to hit on,” Scott clarifies. “She’s here to interview us. She wants to make us look human, make everyone see the sacrifices we’ve been through and you schmucks are gonna drive her to drink!”

“I agree with the Ant. She is too...chipper for myself but seems more than competent. More so than these morons,” Nebula’s rough voice disturbs the quiet after Scott.

“Okay - fine! I’ll try not to hit on her anymore and Rocket will try to be nicer. I can’t fix Drax -”

“I’ll try to keep them more in line,” Gamora agrees with a nod, tapping her forefinger against the heavy wooden tabletop.

“You should all be responsible for yourselves. Be nice. She’s nice to all of you. She was so excited you all were coming and so far her favorite person is Valkyrie of New Asgard. On Earth.”

“That really can’t be helped, she is rather wonderful,” Thor smiles at Tony who fights an eye roll. “Both of them.”

Bucky nearly snarls at Thor, gripping the arm of his chair so tight he feels the metal buckle beneath his grip.

“We will all be better behaved. Even if I must make them, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“Thank you, Mantis.” Rhodey gives her a nod. “Everyone go ahead and go about the rest of your day.”

They all file out except Bucky and Thor who are staring each other down.

“I am not after the little rose, Sergeant.”

“She’d be better off with someone like you. But I just can’t let her go, you understand?”

“I do. But she is already taken with you. She does not look at any of us, nor talks to any of us as she talks to you.” Bucky nods, releasing the metal from his grip and resting his hand on the table.

“I’m-I know I should ask her out but yesterday and today...makes me think that she’s trying to stop herself from getting hurt.”

“You won’t hurt her, Bucky. It is not in your makeup to harm her nor anyone you care about. You are more different than Steve then I realized, but I like it. Remind me of myself after I learned some hard lessons.”

“I’m glad we are on the same page then.”

“Oh, my friend, we are not on the same page at all.” Thor begins with a deep chuckle as Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I agree you might deserve her and I agree I will not pursue her now, but you need to make a decision or release her. Valkyrie and I both already have a soft spot for her. And are waiting eagerly in the wings, as it were.” Thor stands with a bright, happy grin, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’ll see you at dinner then!” And he walks from the room like he fucking owns it.

“I hate him,” Bucky mutters to himself before leaving the conference room in a huff.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

Natasha comes into your room while you’re parked in your usual spot, laptop playing the opening chords of ‘All My Life’ by K-Ci and JoJo as you switch between typing and adding notes to your notebook.

“Did you find your camera?”

“What?!” You set your laptop to the side, focusing all your attention on the redhead. “You had it?”

“Yes. I wanted to see what pictures you had taken.”

“You could’ve asked!” Natasha pauses for a nano-second before shrugging.

“Sometimes I forget you are so open. With no ulterior motives.”

“Natasha, you honestly have no idea how much it hurts that that is how you live your life. Always suspicious.”

“It’s kept me alive.”

“I’m sure it’s kept many people alive. But what a terrible mindset to always be thinking ‘What do they want from me?’ or ‘What information are they after?’” You turn back towards the window, pulling your laptop back into your lap and staring resolutely at the screen. “Thank you for returning it, Natasha. Did you need anything else?”

“No, I suppose not. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you for the concern, but I’m just dandy.”

“And you’re still a terrible liar. I just wanted to let you know that Rocket and Groot will be ready in an hour to interview. Well, re-interview for the trash panda.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Natasha. I’ll get on that.”

“Come see me afterward,” Her voice leaves no room for argument so you just nod, the door closing softly behind the redhead, the sound nearly covered by the sound of your heavy sigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Rocket is faaaar better behaved this time around - and that makes you suspicious.

Thor comes in about halfway through and whispers that he’ll review the recording with you later if you’d like to make sure Rabbit is translating correctly. You thank him, giving his hand on the back of your chair a squeeze. He then pulls a chocolate bar from his pocket and hands it to you.

“For your patience,” He says with a wink before leaving.

“Nice. Didn’t bring us anything.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, ‘course he likes her.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know - you ask her.” Groot looks at you, gesturing from the closed conference room door to you.

“I am Groot.”

“Yes, I like him too. He’s sneakily sweet.”

“I am Groot.”

“No,” Rocket chuckles. “Quill never stood a chance. She likes Bucky, with the arm.”

“I am Groot.”

“I do not have a problem! Mind your own beeswax!” Your sigh draws Rocket’s attention. “Sorry. Sorry,” He holds up his little hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m on my best behavior.”

“And I thank you for that, Rocket. I really do.”

“Yeah...yeah…” He waves his hand again. “Go ahead with your line of questioning.”

“So kind of you, sir,”

“Can the sarcasm, smartass,” He smiles - or grimaces, you can’t tell at the moment - but you do as he asks (tells). But not before giving him a mock salute and continuing with the questions.

“Describe to me, please, how you two met.”

“This one got himself arrested,” Rocket points to Groot. “I happened, through no fault of my own,”

“Of course,” You murmur in agreement.

“To be in the prison they tossed him in. They couldn’t understand him, so I told ‘em he kept asking what the charges were. They told me to shut up and shoved - well, shoved as hard as they could, but he went willingly - into the cell - wait!” He snaps his fingers. “What’s that word? It’s one of your religious-based words to describe an idiot.”

“I am Groot.”

“I agree with Groot, Rocket. He isn’t an idiot.” Groot nods while Rocket rubs under his chin, ears not as perked up as before as he thinks.

“Putty!” Rocket exclaims finally, grinning at you like he’s proud.

“Putty is a compound. I think you’re looking for the word putz. It’s Yiddish and I’m pretty sure it means dick, not an idiot. Yutz means foolish, I think.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, Quill is a putz sometimes. You’re a yutz.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know Yiddish, how am I supposed to know?” Rocket shifts his attention back to you. “You know more Yiddish words? Groot wants a word for informative.” Frowning, you reach for your phone, quickly typing in Yiddish words.

“I don’t see one a non-Jewish person would know...another word maybe, Groot?”

“I am Groot.”

“Confident,” Rocket supplies as you scroll.

“Chutzpah. Nerve, confidence, brazen, gumption.”

“I am Groot.”

“He said that works. He likes it too.”

“Good, I’ll grab a couple of Yiddish dictionaries and we can learn some words together.”

“I am Groot?” You look from Groot to Rocket.

“He said, even in Space?”

“Yeah! I’ll have to ask Tony for a way to talk to you in space since average people don’t have that tech.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah - don’t worry, kid, I’ll fix you up with something.” He winks after he says it, sharp little teeth showing as he grins, Groot sporting his own toothy (bark-y?) grin at you.

“More questions alright?”

“Go ahead then,” Rocket gives a wave of his furry hand while Groot nods and settles more comfortably in his chair.

And so you do, with glee igniting in your veins once again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Drax and Mantis’ joint interview is monitored by Carol, but Drax doesn’t seem to care about who is monitoring him, he just says and does as he pleases. Which includes leaving after he believes his part is done.

“Did you get what you needed?” Carol asks, draped over a black velvet upholstered chair sideways, tapping on her wrist device before pinning you with her intense gaze. You review what he’s answered, tapping the pen against the paper while you purse your lips and go over it again.

“Yeah, I think I have enough. He answered all the big questions...I can just pester him later if I need to. Thank you though.” Carol just nods as Mantis scoots a little closer in her wooden chair, a bright smile on her face.

“You seem much happier today.”

“I’m feeling a little better, thanks.”

“Maybe once you are finished with the hard part of asking us all these questions, it will feel like a weight has been lifted?”

“I’m not sure. This is the biggest project I’ve ever taken on. I think not having a break from the chaos just sort of exacerbates it since I’m usually pretty solitary once I’ve finished interviewing. Just get lost in making it as good as I possibly can. It’s been difficult to do since I have to keep interviewing. I get a break to do a sort of layout, but that’s it. I only managed to get Pepper’s done because it was just...pressing. It just poured out once I finished her interview.”

“Chaos is a good word for it,” Carol comments with a little smile.

“It’s not bad!” You clarify, a bit over eagerly. “I’m just not used to it.”

“None of us are used to it,” Mantis says wisely, hands resting so demurely on her lap as her smile soothes your nerves back down. “We are simply glad to be all together.”

“Without bloodshed,” Carol’s mouth downturns in a sort of comical way. “Mostly without bloodshed.”

“Which I think is appreciated at every family gathering.”

“Yes!” Mantis agrees with enthusiasm.

“Want me to get the murder sisters?”

“Nah. I’ll finish up the interviews tomorrow. That way Pepper can coerce all of you into the group interview Friday and then, um, I’ll leave on Saturday.”

“Now I feel sad,” Mantis’ face falls with her words, reaching out to pat your hand accordingly. Her eyes become more intense as she sifts through your emotions. “We will all miss you too.” You nod numbly, smiling through the tears. That’s when you feel two sets of arms around you.

“I’ll kick Stark’s ass if you aren’t always welcome here. With us,” Carol pauses before squeezing you and Mantis tighter in her grip. “Although we could always take you away to space…”

“You would love space!” Mantis says excitedly, pulling away a little to grin at you.

“Maybe my next vacation should be space. Got any good beaches?”

“We could find you one!”

“Well then, of course, I can’t turn down a vacation in space!”

“Name the time and we’ll try to accommodate,” Carol confirms, laying her cheek against the top of your head.

“No leaving me alone with Quill. Unless you want me to hit him.”

“I say we give the odds to fur face - he’d looooove to see you knock Quill on his ass.” You chuckle, relaxing in their arms. “And I’d love the payout.”

“Carol, sweetie, you won’t be getting a payout. No one is gonna bet on Peter winning. Everyone on the ship can kick his ass.” Drax’s deep laughter booms through the room, drawing all your gazes. He puts another handful of gummy bears in his mouth.

“IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IT IS TRUE!” He bellows before shoving his hand back into the bag.

“Why’d you come back?” Carol asks over her shoulder.

“Oh, yes. The woman spider says the writer is needed in her quarters.”

“All good things must end,” Mantis says with a happy sigh, all of you pulling away. Carol hands you your laptop and notebook with a bright smile.

“Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Thank you, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory reference.”

“I do what I can,” She says with a lighthearted shrug as you all head for the door of the study that Carol had found a few days ago. You take a deep breath as you walk through the door, mentally girding your loins at whatever Natasha has planned for you.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Your patching all of today’s interviews together, trying to make it as cohesive as possible - prepping it for your rewrites and tweaks - after the two hour session with Natasha.

She had wrangled you into a massage chair, tugging your shoes off as a woman who looks like someone Pepper negotiates with daily, comes into the room with a giant metal case. She hadn’t given you an option, she had simply painted your fingers and toes in a sparkly midnight blue, with your middle fingers painted metallic gold. Not something you’d choose for yourself but, honestly, you couldn’t remember a time in the last few years where your hands and feet had both felt so soft.

And while the executive-looking woman had worked, so had Natasha.

Natasha makes it seems as if you are just discussing your life, but it’s an interrogation. A pleasant one if any of the other stories you’ve heard about her are anything to go on… She slips in tidbits on Bucky, what Steve’s told her over the years, several of those little stories making your heart clench. Natasha always makes sure to follow those up with more cheerful or funny ones.

You weren’t born yesterday - you know what she’d been doing. Subtly (or not so) talking Bucky up.

Running your hands through your hair, you try to refocus on the words floating on your screen.

You need to sleep.

Three more interviews. Just three more.

Jesus, where did the time go?

After the three interviews tomorrow, Pepper will orchestrate the group interview with your questions and a handful of submitted ones she somehow got. Pepper and Tony’s methods are like the various branches of the military since the 90s - Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

Then you’d be gone. And it wouldn’t matter how wonderful Bucky is...cause he didn’t make a move. And you’re just as lost in your head as he is, second-guessing most everything...so you can’t blame him for not moving forward when you are just as hesitant to get involved in something too good to be true.

There is a soft knock, causing you to pause. Dinner wrapped up almost three hours ago, so you weren’t sure who it could -

Bucky, your mind supplies unhelpfully. You tell that nosy bitch in your head to shut up when lo and behold, in walks Sgt. Barnes himself.

“I couldn’t sleep. Do you, uh, would you like company?” You scrub your hands down your face, save your work and click the laptop closed.

“Yeah, I can’t focus on the screen anymore without going cross-eyed. What did you have in mind?” You lean backward, palms flat and braced on the plush carpet, staring up at the man before you.

And, dear lord, what a man.

You barely stifle a giggle as Whatta Man lyrics start flashing through your thoughts. Bucky qualifies for most of those damn lyrics.

“Whatcha smiling so big for now, doll?”

“I’ll have Wanda explain it to you later.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because I don’t want to,” You pout, making him shake his head ruefully.

“Let’s get some sleep, then, since you won’t tell me your secret,” He holds out his hand, lips quirked in a crooked and easy smile. Taking his hand is easy, warm and safe, making you return his smile full force.

You move to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and shuffling under, only to be met in the middle with Bucky’s open arms.

“Tell me a secret,” His soft breath moves a few pieces of your hair before his fingers brush them back as you settle in his embrace with a soft sigh.

“My great-grandma’s step-sister was a nurse in WWII and so I grew up cuddling well-worn bears. A Captain America one,” Bucky groans good-naturedly. “A Dum Dum Dugan one. And a Bucky Barnes one too.”

“Not the whole unit?”

“Nah, her kids kept the others. My grandfather was the only boy out the bunch, so he was gifted Captain America’s bear. His sisters got Dum Dum and yours. And since I was the first grandbaby - and was the only one for about seven years - I got all three.”

“I can’t even believe any of those survived the war.”

“You and Steve did - God knows the bears were treated a whole lot better too,” Bucky snorts but tightens his arms around you. “Tell me a secret.”

“I don’t want you to leave the day after tomorrow. I want you to stay.” You pull away enough to look him in the eye, emotion making your throat tighten.

“What would happen if I did?”

“Dinner. Dancing. I could be convinced to throw in a couple of kisses,” You sigh over-dramatically, snuggling back in his arms.

“I don’t really know how to dance.”

“I could teach you.”

“For a couple kisses?”

“Holding you close is more than enough payment, doll.”

“Ah-ha! You say that now but once I’ve stepped on your toes for the tenth time, you might feel different.”

“Even my toes got the super serum. They’ll be fine.”

“Tell me a secret,” You try again.

“You scare me.”

“Bucky, I am the least scary person in this entire compound.”

“That’s what makes you the scariest. You’re the softest, most caring and gentle-hearted person...but feisty. Quiet but strong. All in this pretty and shy little package. All that adds up to a truly dangerous person.” You can hear him swallow, his heart beating quickly in his chest at his confession. “Tell me a secret.”

“I want to stay,” You whisper against his chest, a stray tear escaping from your eye to be quickly absorbed by the pillow.

“Then stay, doll,” Bucky whispers against your hair before he presses a soft kiss atop your head. “Stay with me.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

When you wake up, Bucky is gone.

You push down the unease at waking up to an empty bed before dragging your ass out of bed.

The shower is over quickly, blow-drying your hair lightly to help along the drying process before getting ready to plonk down in your customary spot when you pause, your stomach growling loudly.

“Okay then, breakfast before working today…”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“I am Groot.”

“No, flowers ain’t gonna help.” Rocket heads into the kitchen after Scott, Groot following behind.

“I am Groot.”

“He’s got a point there.” Bruce and Rhodey stare at Thor. “Oh, right. He said a puppy might work…” Thor nods as he strokes his beard.

“Help what?” You ask, startling the trio as you enter the lab with Valkyrie, Peter, and Vision.

All five of their gazes drop or wander upward to the walls.

Uh-oh.

“What is it?”

“Well, see, uh - we got a call about a small arms deal by the Canadian border,” Rhodey answers, leaning his hip against the table.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, um, Steve, Clint, Tony, Natasha and, um,” Bruce stumbles over his words, looking at Thor then Rhodey.

“Bucky,” You supply as Bruce nods.

“Yes. They all went.”

“They left already?” They all hear the disappointment in your voice.

“I am Groot.” Groot holds out a piece of paper for you, smiling softly down at you.

“Thank you.” You unfold the paper, noticing Bucky’s neat handwriting.

Babydoll -

It’s just a quick mission. We’ll be back hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.

I’m so sorry.

Just - just promise me you’ll stay until I get back.

Please?

Promise I’ll be safe.

And I’ll owe you [1] good night’s sleep, doll.

-- Bucky

You fold the letter, tucking it into your pant’s pocket.

“You need a drink!” Valkyrie soothes happily, shooing you from the room with Thor and Rhodey following behind.

“It’s not even 9 am!” Scott shouts, following behind with an eye roll and head shake.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah. Hey, Bruce, where do we find a puppy around this planet? Is there a shop?”

“First off - I’m not sure about the puppy. Secondly - we do not shop at pet stores. They’re usually from puppy mills. Need to look at reputable places to adopt.”

“Good. Show us those then,” Bruce groans as Rocket jumps onto the table by his laptop.

“Fine.”

“I am Groot.”

“That’s true. He might need a friend to keep him company.”

“Dear lord…” Bruce huffs as he typed in local dog adoption places in New York before his face softens at all the little doggy faces that flash across the screen.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re going to leave. You aren’t going to come back. After this morning, you won’t want anything to do with them. Especially him. Bucky shoves the dark voice back deep down as he glares down at his plate.

“You look real nice in the mornings,” Quill says loudly around a mouthful of waffles, gesturing with his fork at your hair. Bucky bites back a growl, shoving the majority of his omelet into his mouth in one go.

“Thank you,” Your voice has an edge of curtness, but still polite...totally unnoticed by Quill.

“Of course, I’m just bein’ honest,” He continues, smiling widely at you before shooting you a wink, which makes Bucky snap his fork in half. He tosses it in the sink with a huff before grabbing another, fighting the urge to stab Star-Dumbass with the new fork.

“Listen, Peter, I’m not interested. Thank you for the compliments but right now I’m just not in the mood to deal with your whole ‘trying to get laid constantly’ bullshit.” Steve nearly chokes on the piece of sausage he’s eating at your words, T’Challa giving him a hard thump between his shoulders as he tries to hide a smile.

“Every time I think, well, I don’t think I can like her any more than I already do - she makes me. Go on, tell him how you really feel,” Sam’s warm chuckle seems to reassure you, Bucky watching your shoulders relax a little.

“Let’s hurry up everyone - the video photographer will be here within the hour.” Bucky nods at Pepper’s words, shoving his last forkful of eggs in his mouth and grabbing his shitty cup of coffee. Even though it was the fanciest coffee Tony could buy, it was crap compared to the coffee you’d been making him. You’d showed him how to work the machine but he knew it wouldn’t be the same.

He had talked himself out of sneaking into your room late Sunday evening. Of nuzzling an unheard apology against your shoulder before gathering you tightly in his arms, fully prepared to grovel come the morning.

Bucky knew you wouldn’t want him to grovel. When he had mentioned it in his mind, you had nearly punched him. He’d easily had kissed away the flash of anger, happy to soak up the ease he always felt in your presence.

Bucky shakes himself out of his dreams, willing himself not to think of the memory of your bare legs wrapped around his and your warmth as you two were pressed so tightly together.

Now you’re seated on the couch beside Shuri, plate balanced on the tops of your legs as you finish working your way through the huge pancake you have left, and giggling at a picture she’s showing you on her phone with Clint leaning over your shoulder to peer down at it too.

Pepper and Happy had wrangled you into staying an extra two days since the mission ran over, and she still wanted desperately to give you the video interview and glamor shots of all of them for your going away present.

Which Bucky wasn’t going to think about.

“Hey.” Bucky looks startled for a second before he nods at Shuri. “Do you want what’s left? I can’t finish it.” Bucky shakes his head at the question, but nerves kept him from really enjoying his breakfast. He watches as you lean back on your hands, the mauve shirt your wearing riding up just a bit above where your black leggings sat. Teasing him with the tiniest peek of skin.

He commits the image to memory, knowing you’ll be trying to leave on the jet when this interview concludes… He also knows that Tony, Steve, and the others will all convince you to stay for lunch at the very least. He knows you’ll accept - you’re too sweet to deny such a request. His sweet, smartass, torturous babydoll.

“Okay, the stylists are here! Remember to dress nice but not gala event/black tie nice!” Pepper barks as she takes the plate away from Rhodey, shooing him towards the small army of men and women standing just inside the living area as he sighs heavily. Bucky isn’t the only one to notice you slip Rhodey a piece of toast with jam, nodding towards were the trays of mimosas were on the counter with a big smile.

‘I love you, kid,’ Rhodey mouths, grabbing a flute of spiked orange juice and taking a healthy bite of toast as his stylist guides him from the room.

When the gentleman assigned to him came to get him, Bucky silently trailing after him, not noticing the sad, longing gaze you shoot him as you watch him leave.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Lunch is a lot jollier than they all feel, trying to send you out on a high note.

It’s lighthearted and full of laughter as you all drag out this time as much as possible, making you look around and finally take the time to truly appreciate the expensive wallpaper of this room, the actually silver silverware that glimmered dimly in the natural light - as if it doesn’t want to draw attention to its elevated status.

Your gaze has circled the room innumerable times since sitting down, each time slower than the last, soaking in every minute detail of the group of people around you.

Thirty wonderful beings sit around the long, long table around you - beings who had opened their lives, their pasts, and their homes to you in the past two weeks. They’d given you nicknames, built little inside jokes with you, and (mostly) given you their trust; knowing you aren’t going to use the information given against them.

You’ve caught Bucky’s gaze twice so far with your roaming looks, with each time more heart-wrenching than the last. You have so much you want to say and he seems to be trying to communicate the same to you with those storm blue eyes pouring out every emotion from the last two and a half weeks in their depths.

And you’re trying not to bawl from those drowning blue eyes fastened resolutely to you.

So you keep talking. And nodding along. And laughing...because, if you don’t, you don’t know what you’ll do. Yes, you do, you’ll break. Thanks, inner monologue!

You lean over the arm, showing Peter a TikTok video of a girl howling and her cat mimicking her, Shuri hanging over Peter’s shoulder to watch it before you all let out a little howl as it replays. Gamora is on your left side, Carol beside her, as Gamora whispers something from the interview - making all three of you burst out laughing.

You think about your purse, already settled on the jet, with your messy notebook carefully placed inside...basic stats were long forgotten in all the wonderful personal things you’ve discovered along the way. How Drax has a thing for gummy bears and chocolate pop-tarts. How Nebula tried to shoot Clint’s bow and almost broke it by pulling it back too hard. Pepper keeping chili chocolate bars in her desk drawer for a long day in the office. Peter talking to DUM-E just like Tony does, the three of them lost in stuttered conversations late at night. Rocket napping cuddled up under Groot’s arm in the garden.

“We’ll miss you,” Tony hides behind a tight smile after he draws everyone’s attention with his words. “And I’ve loved the emotion.” You can’t fight back the tears anymore, your lip quivering as you nod, nails digging into your palm to stave off the sobs.

“Big picture,” You affirm with a watery smile.

“Big picture,” Tony agrees as he gives you the most heartbreaking smile. By now, there was no more Iron Man between you...just Tony Stark doing his best by his adopted family.

“Boss, the jet has begun its standby. Ready for Miss Y/N.” The only sounds after that are soft shuffles as everyone seems to shift and tense at the AI’s words, reality settling even more harshly around the room.

“Thank you FRIDAY.” He seems to whisper, but it comes out louder because of the silence the room is ensconced in. “At least we added a few more AFI 100 Greatest titles to your list. Got you some new duds,” Tony stands up and everyone follows suit. “Got you a nifty new hair cut,” You can hear some chuckles behind you as you all head out of the mess hall. “Anything you’d like to let me know before you go, kiddo?”

You nearly run into Rhodey’s back as he stops just inside the hanger, dreading 30 goodbyes.

“Invite Wong and Strange over more often - I know, I know,” You hold up a hand in a stop sign. “Even if they decline. Gamora needs more fruit to tempt Nebula with to be less stabby on long missions and Nebula now, surprisingly, loves those chocolate-covered blueberries, so those as well. Gamora also needs a few more t-shirts since she loved the one I gave her from the store you have a tab at - the black, extra soft t-shirt one? Carol won’t admit it, but she needs to be asked to visit here more too. I know she’s busy, you all are, but asking is sometimes just as important as the actual visiting.”

“FRIDAY and I are making a list, don’t worry. Continue.”

“Steve and Bucky deserve a dog. There are more than enough people to help take care of it - take the stick out a little on the dog matter. Please. Make Clint drink something not caffeinated. And don’t make Natasha be the one to make Clint do it. Add a little salt lick or something out in the clearing for the deer. Don’t let Shuri attempt to hijack Redwing when she leaves, it’ll upset Sam. Make Steve eat a few Oreos. I don’t care how, but I would enjoy the video evidence. Go easier on Peter when needed, he’d trying to do his best and live up to you. T’Challa needs to let loose some too, go hang out in a giant donut together. Okoye needs some Starbucks delivered sometimes - the sweeter, the better. Have family-style dinners more often. Invite everyone, even if they can’t come. And get some fucking sleep, Tony.”

“Is that all?”

“Have Scott do your Christmas lights at the Tower. I’ll come ‘cause I know it’ll be hilarious and beautiful. Let them babysit Morgan more - she’s in the safest hands. Put a damn cover or grate or something over your incinerator pit!”

“Now, see, little miss writer, usually it does, per law. It had been emptied into the fields and hauled off to the vineyard and it hadn’t been put back before dark. Check that one off your mile-long list.”

“Just keep doing what you all are doing. And thank you, thank you all for everything you’ve done.” You fight back tears again, huffing out a deep breath, focusing on Tony before you. “And Bucky and Steve deserve a dog. Oh, and tell DUM-E I’ll write to him.”

“Noted,” Tony snorts at the DUM-E comment before grumbling, reaching forward to pull you quickly and tightly against his chest. “See you later, sweetness. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Pepper steps in when Tony steps away, inhaling a shaky breath as you wrap your arms around the red-head.

Wanda is next, kissing one cheek and then another before hugging you tighter than you were hugging her.

“Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază.”

“Little kisses to you too, Y/N. Take care.”

T’Challa wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you gently before Shuri throws her arms around you as well.

“Say hi to Nakia and your mother for me, please.”

“Of course,” T’Challa agrees immediately before stepping away to reveal Sam, holding up a crisp $20 bill.

“You were right…” Sam grins out as you pocket the money before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him to you.

“I usually am,” You reply with some cockiness, pulling away slightly before you feel his lips against your cheek.

“Stay outta trouble.”

“I was just about to say that to you!” You chuckle out before you feel Peter’s tight embrace nearly smothering you. But, you know, in a good way. “I’ll miss you too, Peter. Next time I’m here we need to go have one of those Spider-Man ice creams.”

“And I can introduce you to Aunt May.” He pulls away with a bright smile, making you cup his face.

“I’d love that, Peter.”

Scott steps up next. “Ya know, in prison, we got hit by the biggest, meanest guy as a goodbye. All in good spirits, of course.”

“Of course,” You agree with a serious nod. “But don’t worry, I think the girls like me too much to hit me.”

“Oooh. I see how it is. Praise my lighting skills and - well, I mean, you aren’t wrong.” A wiggle of your eyebrows makes him shake his head before hugging you tightly, giving your back a few hard pats before squeezing you.

“I just told Sam that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He mutters before he delivers another squeeze, backing out of the way for Gamora.

“I know a couple of beaches...you finish up with these articles and barring anything stupid from that one,” She gestures her head to Quill who shoots you two an unconvincing ‘Who Me?’ look, rolling her eyes before continuing. “We’ll come kidnap you for a break.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll bring some fruit and some junk food.”

“Deal!” Drax bellows out behind Gamora, picking you up from the ground as he squeezes you before promptly putting you down. “Goodbye, author.”

“Goodbye, destroyer,” You boop his nose before Steve clears his throat behind him.

“Don’t be a stranger, beautiful.” You feel small in his embrace, digging your nails into his shoulders to bury your face against his chest, letting a couple of tears fall against his dark blue shirt before he kisses the top of your head and let’s go.

Wong is next, giving you a brief hug before stepping back and giving you a small bow, which you return with a smile.

Clint pops up, gathering your hands in his.

“Our time together has been so special to me,” You roll your eyes playfully. “Thank you for not being one of those rabid journalists and for always thinking of me in black thong.”

“It’s an image I will always treasure, Clint. And I’ve tried to be as unrabid as possible for you.”

“Marry me already.”

“Pencil me in.”

“Will do, calendar girl,” He concludes with a wink, handing you off to Hope, who runs a hand over your hair before sliding her hand down your arm and pulls you into a tight embrace. She doesn’t say anything - much like Pepper - just holds you in her arms.

Rhodey is next, kissing your forehead before tucking you into a hug.

“Thanks for everything. I’ll let the Roomba know you think of him too,” You sputter out a laugh, slightly muffled against his shoulder.

“I’ll think of him often. Maybe you if I have the time.”

“That’s appreciated, you little shit.”

“Thanks, Colonel. I try.” Rhodey scoffs, gently pushing you towards Quill with a stern look shot at the outlaw.

“I wish we’d had more time together,” Quill begins, his face soft and open, as he shakes your hand. “I see now you just wanted to get to know me. Un-romantically.”

“What tipped you off?” He moves forward for a quick hug.

“I love a smart-ass though.”

“If your hand so much as moves a millimeter down Quill…”

“Several people would attempt to break my hand.”

“Starting with me,” You chuckle as he squeezes your right shoulder, dropping it with a small grin to move aside for Vision.

“I shall miss you and all your questions.”

“I’ll email you some, just so you don’t get too sad.”

“I would like that.”

“Take care, Vision.”

“You too.” Happy is next, straightening his suit jacket as he steps forward, a soft smile breaking on his face just for you.

“Kid, you’ve been interesting.”

“I’m glad you’ve had time to come to terms with my boring nature, Hap.”

“Next time you’re here, I’ll buy you a churro,” You sniffle lightly against his jacket as he hugs you.

“Take care of them,” You beg, unashamed.

“Always.”

Bruce is fidgeting with something in his hand before presenting it, a little black box.

“Open it.” He gestures to the box, Rocket standing beside him with his arms crossed. Nestled in the box is a half glass sphere with a silver base, about the size of your palm as you cradle it in your hand.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, we used the piece DUM-E gave to you to help build it.”

“And this is for our language lessons and my interrogations?”

“I am Groot.”

“I love it! Thank you all so much.” You carefully hold it out for Rocket, who flips it upside down and shows you what to push.

“Red means we aren’t on the ship. Black means we’re busy, ya know, being Guardians or stealing,”

“Rocket!” Gamora hisses, frowning at him.

“And blue,” Rocket continues, completely unperturbed. “Means you’re good to pester us.” You kneel in front of Rocket.

“Bring it in, you yutz.” He rolls his eyes but complies, patting your sides in return.

“I am Groot!” He says loudly as he wraps his arms around the two of you, cradling you both against his chest.

“I am Groot,” You repeat, making Rocket chuckle.

‘That was completely correct, kid. Good job.” Groot set you down, Rocket climbing up onto his shoulder as Groot gives you a little pink flower and a smile.

“Thank you, Bruce,” You lean forward and kiss his cheek before his arms wrap around you.

“Don’t be a stranger. You can call us with that too. The yellow color will connect you to the lab - whichever one we’re in,” Bruce hugging you lightly then nodding.

“Okay,” You manage, fighting back another wave of tears.

“Goodbye, little writer,” Strange gives you a tight smile before he gives a quick hug, moving to make room for Mantis.

“I will make sure to call you. To make sure you take a break from the rest of the writing,” She beams at you before you two embrace. She steps away and Nebula is behind her, holding out her hand. As you give it a firm shake, she yanks you forward for a stiff hug and a rough pat on the back.

“I will tell the fox to send your calls to me about the fruit,” You hold up a finger with a bright smile, withdrawing a small bag of chocolate-covered blueberries.

“For you,” You lean in, “I also put some chocolate-covered espresso beans and dried mango slices in that compartment you showed me on the ship by Gamora’s room.” Her serious gaze shifts from your face to the blueberries and then gives a sharp nod at your whispered words.

“As you should,” She jokes, face so serious if you hadn’t spent most of two days with her, you might have missed it - which just makes you smile all the wider.

Okoye hugs you after Nebula moves out of the way, bag tucked securely in her grip as Drax and Rocket peer down at her goodies.

“Remember me and Olenna.”

“Wakandan sunsets are on my bucket list now.”

“And you will see it. Uxolo lube nawe, sihlobo.” [Peace be with you, friend.]

“Did you just call me a friend? Cause that’s the only word I semi-recognized…” She presses her forehead against yours.

“Yes, friend. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Okoye. Yomelela ngonaphakade.” [Strong forever.] She pulls away with a chuckle. “Hey - I tried! Was it wrong?”

“No,” Shuri says from behind you, “It was good.”

“Princess approved!” You laugh out as Okoye hugs you tightly.

Carol is next, her arms spread wide for you to walk into. “Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Give me a smile.”

“Let that sunshine show!” Carol skips a few lines as her thumbs come up to wipe away the few tears that have managed to slip out unbidden. But you do as she asks and smile through it all.

“Stop making her cry!” Natasha admonishes, tapping on Carol’s shoulders to cut in. She raises an eyebrow before pulling you close. “I’m gonna miss you,” She says this part loud enough for everyone to hear, leaning in closer to whisper the next part - so low even the super-soldiers wouldn’t be able to hear. You hoped. “You and Barnes are gonna be the cutest couple. Name your firstborn after me.”

“I already promised Valkyrie that honor,” You whisper back, watching her pull away and only catching the end of her eye roll.

“You’re always welcome here for interrogation and nail painting.”

“My feet are still so soft - it’s amazing!” Natasha shrugs.

“I know.” Natasha tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and goes behind you to join the others.

“My little rose,” Thor begins, his hug tight and bear-like, lifting you from the ground. “I am sad to see you go. Sad that we did not get to know each other better.” You shake your head at the drop in his tone.

“I guess Brunhilde mentioned her offer to you.”

“Oh, yes,” He confirms with a wide-cheeked grin.

“Both of you are little shits.”

“Oh, yes,” He agrees, the smile never leaving his handsome face, blue eyes full of mirth. You brace your hands on his forearms, kissing his bearded cheek.

“I’m going to miss you, warrior Pikachu of Point Break.” He groans before hugging you again, this one leaving your feet planted on the floor.

“My turn!” Valkyrie shoos Thor, kissing one cheek and then the other before cupping your face in her hands. “My offer stands,” And she fucking winks at you before brushing her lips gently over yours. Your fingers brush over your lips afterward, looking at her with eyes as big as saucers. Her laughter echoes in your ears as she hugs you, her grip is tight around you but comforting.

“You are the weirdest juxtaposition...but I’ll keep your offer in mind. Far in the back of my mind, but there.”

“Good! Come visit New Asgard, I’ll give you a grand tour.”

“Okay, okay - calm down, sister!” Tony shouts as Valkyrie winks again, leaving Bucky standing before you. Of course, he had to be the last…

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep the same without you, doll.”

“Ditto, Sarge. No sugar cubes?” He rubs the back of his neck before dropping his hand, biting his bottom lip.

“Nah, you’re sweet enough,” You move forward, nearly closing the space between the two of you.

“My soft, handsome, thoughtful, smart dumbass…” Bucky closes the rest of the space between you, metal fingers sliding around to the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna miss you so damn much, babydoll,” He whispers against your lips, his flesh hand cupping your cheek. His lips press oh so innocently against yours, a tightness in your chest as you sink your fingers into his hair and press his lips closer, feeling his smile at the action. When he pulls away, he links his flesh fingers with yours and throws the vibranium one around your shoulder. Pulling you as close as possible, he kisses your forehead and then the top of your head when you drop your forehead against his shoulder. “Safe travels.” He whispers before stepping away with a nod, hearing your sniffles as you hurriedly climb aboard the jet.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

2 WEEKS LATER

“What do you mean the Avengers jet is here for me?” You ask the person on the phone for what seems like the nineteenth time but is probably only the third. “I just don’t understand...aren’t they in Siberia or something?” Amelina looks at you quizzically as she comes into the tiny office space you share with two giant cups of iced coffee, slipping into your desk chair as she listens in. Nosy.

“No - I understand what you’re saying, I just don’t understand why? It’s been two weeks, we’ve only posted one interview after I left. Carol’s will be posted tonight at 7 pm EST… I just-just don’t understand WHY?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yes, I can be ready within the hour. Thank you.”

“Oooh - they want you back so soon! Well, I bet a certain blue-eyed soldier at least…”

“Yeah. Whatever. He hasn’t texted, called, emailed, hologrammed, carrier pigeon-ed...nada. The whole thing between us is the equivalent of Sandy and Danny at the beach. Summer lovin’. And now it’s fall.” You take the lighter colored ice coffee with the caramel drizzle, taking a hearty sip as you rest your rear against your desk edge. “And now I gotta go pack for whatever the heck this is. Jesus... I swear I cried the whole way home.”

“And the day after. And while you were proof-reading Thor’s interview before posting it.” Amelina ticks her fingers off as she goes. Ass. “While we were going over Carol’s. When someone sent an email about Pepper’s. When you were picking out pictures to go along with the stories...I don’t see how you have any tears left at all. You’re just so damn sensitive.”

“I can’t believe you’re still so blase about my anguish. What a friend you are!”

Amelina tosses her long black hair over her shoulder with an eye roll. “Listen,” She peers down at her watch. “You’ve got forty-five minutes left to get ready!” The traitor sing-songs with a bright smile.

You return her bright smile.

“Guess that means you’re holding down the fort again! All by your lonesome!” You chuckle before wrapping your lips around the straw once more, bending over to pick up your purse from under your desk. “Hasta la vista!”

“You’re a little shit, do you know that?!”

“It’s been mentioned!” You call over your shoulder, heels clicking down the hall with your thoughts running a million miles at the possibilities of what this means.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

When the jet lands at the compound, Bucky is a ball of nerves.

He’s been carefully planning since you left and it’s taken this long to muster up the damn courage to execute it.

The compound was mostly empty - operating with a skeleton crew - so Bucky didn’t feel as foolish standing in the hanger bay for the last couple hours letting his nerves suffocate him.

And when you step off the jet, it takes his breath away. God, you’re gorgeous.

He waits until you’re halfway across the hanger before stepping from his spot, smiling through the butterflies and moths fluttering chaotically in his belly. “Hey, doll.” Dear God, your eyes widening and the little gasp that accompanies it made his chest tighten.

“Your hair, Bucky! I love it!” Bucky runs his vibranium fingers through his newly shorn locks, neck and cheeks flushing under your scrutiny. “Is this - is this your calendar outfit?” He watched you take in his outfit. “God, you look even better than I imagined!”

“Th-thank you, gorgeous.” Bucky gestures you towards the door, following a little too closely behind.

“How far do I go?”

“All the way to the living room, please.”

“Oh, Bucky.” You were born to break him, he was sure of it. How you said his name - fuck, he was a goner. Bucky moves so his chest is nearly brushing against your back, inhaling the scent of your perfume like he’d been itching for it.

“I owe you a couple of dates. Some dancing. And a few good night’s sleep.”

“Is this how you treat all the girls you like? Show them some woodland creatures, make them cookies, reel them in with those big blue eyes, toss them to what you hope is safety, run off to go keep civilians safe, and then make a romantic dinner with all the trappings?”

“No. Most women will look at me but once they recognize who I am, they aren’t very interested anymore. And we both know - you aren’t most women. Plus I’m not interested in picking up any other women. Just my babydoll.” You turn to face him with those kissable lips pursed slightly.

“You know, Sergeant, speaking of picking up - I think I should pick you up and toss you into the trash bin, just to be fair.” You’re grinning when you say it, which lightens all the flutters currently in his belly and makes him automatically smile back.

“I don’t think you could pick me up, doll,” He chuckles out, gesturing towards the plush red upholstered chair closest to you both while he lets you lead.

“You don’t think I can pick you up?” Her eyebrow arch high as he shakes his head ‘no’ as he pulls out the chair and waits for you to sit before taking his own across the little wooden table. “Is that a dead rabbit in your mouth? ‘Cause you’re a fox.” His forehead furrows as he pours you both some wine.

“What - what are you doing?” He chuckles out, his eyes watching yours dance with mirth.

“Obviously I’m trying to pick you up, Sergeant,” You fucking wink at him when you finish saying that before leaning a little towards him, reaching for the wine glass. “Do you need more convincing?”

“Bring it, beautiful.”

“Was your dad a boxer? Because, baby, you’re a knockout.” Bucky’s heart stutters when she calls him baby, especially the way you say it, with your eyes twinkling but there is a hint of uncertainty there...one he needs to chase away.

“Can I follow you home? My ma told me to follow my dreams,” Bucky purrs out, watching her smile widen before her head tilts just so.

“Bucky - what is this?”

“Well, so far I got dating, dancing, sleeping...Hell - I’ll throw in some kisses too.” Bucky reaches across the small table, flesh palm face-up, anxiety riddling his thoughts now. “I wanna date you. I wanna cook with you. I want you to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first thing I see in the morning. I want to hear you singing and watch you stick your tongue out when you concentrate on finding the right word or the right angle for your pictures. I’ll even pretend you don’t have ice cold feet in bed.” Your fingers tangling with his is pure magic even Dr. Strange couldn’t conjure.

“Well, are you going to come over here and kiss me or leave me hanging?”

Bucky nearly topples the chair he was just sitting in, in his haste to get around the table. His metal fingers feel cool against the warmth of your skin, his thumb stroking along your jawline as he leans in slowly, gently bumping his nose against yours before pressing his lips against yours softly. So softly. When you press against his lips a little more firmly, he takes it to mean more. So he gives it to you - his tongue gently pressing it against the seam of your lips, the both of you giving a little sigh as you open for him. God, you taste amazing. His other hand cups the back of your head, leaving you nowhere to go while he plunders your sweet mouth. Not that either of you has plans to go anywhere now. He can taste the tang of the wine and something he bets is distinctly you as your tongues meet, a soft groan escaping him at the reality that hits him just then. You’re his girl now. You press a hand gently to his chest and he reluctantly pulls away but rests his forehead against yours since he can’t bear not to be touching you right now.

“Stay with me,” Bucky whispers, barely pulling his face away from yours.

“You’re pretty good at convincing.”

“I made cookies.” He offers with a smirk.

“You think I am so easy?”

“I’m that easy for you.”

“Well, then...that’s perfectly okay. Sold, Mr. Barnes.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @transcendent-heroes @jotink78

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

===== THE END! THANKS FOR READING MY FIRST LITTLE SERIES!! =====

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shanghai-ohmy · 5 years

Text

MaoMaoctober day 23: Slave

Mao Mao has an... adult dream about Badgerclops. A very embarrassing adult dream. Now he has to hide the evidence. Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

CONTENT WARNING this fic is pretty smutty, though there’s no depicted sex. BDSM themes and mouthplay within. How else was I supposed to interpret “slave” in a way that isn’t horrible?

Mao Mao woke up feeling strange. He wasn't groggy exactly, but sort of… fuzzy? He didn't know what to make of it. He always woke up in top top shape, provided he'd had more than five hours of sleep. Judging by the amount of sun, he'd definitely hit that mark. So why was he feeling so weird?

He shifted in his sheets and his blood turned to ice. They were wet. Near his crotch. Did I just wet the bed? The thought alone was devastating.

But that wasn't it. It wasn't that much liquid. A terrible, embarrassed tickle crept into his throat. He bashfully peeked under the sheets and confirmed his suspicion: he'd had a wet dream.

Mao Mao sighed and rubbed his eyes. He knew it happened from time to time, especially to people like him who didn't… release very often. But his cheeks still filled with a rosy blush as he thought about what had happened. The sticky sheets would need a wash, of course. But it would definitely be suspicious if Mao Mao just washed his own. He could declare it laundry day, but Badgerclops had taken care of everyone's sheets just yesterday.

There was no option other than washing just his own. He'd move quickly and do it before the others woke up.

As he slipped out of bed and tiptoed silently towards their washing machine, the fuzzy feeling still plaguing his brain, he wondered what the dream had been about. An image flashed in his mind.

"You're mine now, kitten," Badgerclops said, locking a pink collar around Mao Mao's neck. "I'm going to claim every inch of you." His whisper lingered in Mao Mao's ear.

Mao Mao's entire face turned red. He nearly dropped the bedding he'd bundled in his hands. He'd had that kind of dream? About Badgerclops?!

It was too hard to think about. Too confusing. He ignored the feelings, stuffing them down into the furthest recesses of his mind. He pretended the strange churning in his stomach wasn't there. He loaded the cum-dampened sheets into the washer and started the cycle.

That gave him some relief. He was no longer holding the irrefutable physical proof of his humiliating dream. He had plausible deniability, the greatest blessing there was.

Except his fur was still slick and sticky.

He crept his way to the bathroom. A little soap and water and everything would be fine. He snuck out of the generator room and was almost to the bedroom door when a voice from the living room stopped him in his tracks.

"Dude," Badgerclops said, "what are you doing?" He spoke through a mouthful of cereal.

Mao Mao panicked. "O-oh, uh Badgerclops! I didn't see you there! Just… going about my morning! That's all!" He laughed nervously.

"But why-" Badgerclops interrupted himself, sniffing at the air. "Do you smell something weird? Kinda damp and musty?" He turned his twitching nose towards Mao Mao.

Mao Mao was mortified. Oh god, he thought, I smell like cum. He needed to get into the bathroom and clean himself off immediately. "It's my breath!" He replied, the best lie he could come up with in his panic. "Let me just go take care of that!" He practically sprinted the last few steps to the bathroom.

He washed his lower body thoroughly. He was furious at his luck. Why did Badgerclops have to catch him?! He rubbed the soapy water across his crotch, massaging it into the fur. His mind drifted, and for a moment he remembered:

Badgerclops slid his lubricated claws across Mao Mao's crotch. Mao Mao trembled, his touch-starved body desperately sensitive to Badgerclops's groping. "You can barely handle me touching you like this, huh Mao? You must really want me inside you."

Mao Mao angrily pushed the dream away. This was ridiculous; Badgerclops didn't even talk that way! And besides, it wasn't like Mao Mao wanted… That! He turned the faucet as cold as it would go and let it wash over his lower body. Then he dried off and stepped outside of the bathroom.

Badgerclops snickered as Mao Mao walked back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. "What?!" Mao Mao said defensively, turning to face him. He could feel his cheeks burning.

"Did you-" Badgerclops covered his mouth with his hand, suppressing a giggle- "did you wet the bed?!" He began to laugh as soon as he got the last word out.

"NO!!!" Mao Mao shouted reflexively, flailing his arms.

"Dude, come on." Badgerclops wiped away a tear. He counted on his fingers as he listed off the evidence: "You're washing your sheets, you were sneaking around, and I heard you take a shower just now."

“I’m an ADULT, Badgerclops! I didn’t wet my bed!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it buddy, we can get you a mattress protector.”

Mao Mao racked his brain for a convincing lie. “I was… bleeding!” he blurted.

Badgerclops immediately looked concerned. “Shit, are you okay? Let me see it!”

Mao Mao cringed internally at Badgerclops’s tone. He sounded so worried. It felt bad to play him like this. But the alternative was… unthinkable. “I’m fine. I just scratched myself a little while I was asleep. It’s already closed up. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay…” Badgerclops scratched the back of his head. “Sorry about the bedwetting jokes.”

“It’s alright.” Mao Mao wanted the conversation to be over as soon as possible. He darted to the kitchen, safe from Badgerclops’s prying eye. A heavy sigh of relief fell from his lips. There would be no existentially embarrassing dreams revealed today! Badgerclops would never know how Mao Mao felt. He’d never hear about the way Mao Mao had been helpless in his grasp, how he’d taken complete control of Mao Mao’s body, how he’d…

Arrgh! Mao Mao shook his head, clearing it. Breakfast! He was making breakfast. The knot of feelings in his stomach grew tighter.

A few minutes later he walked out, plate in hand, to the table. Badgerclops was still sitting there, of course. Mao Mao had thought about just eating in the kitchen, but Badgerclops was way too suspicious for that to fly. So he sat at the table. Dangerously close to him.

Has he always looked this buff? Mao Mao thought to himself as he ate. He couldn’t help it; it was too weird being near him after that dream. They managed to make some friendly small talk until Mao Mao finished his food. Mao Mao was about to excuse himself when Badgerclops stopped him.

“Hang on dude,” he said, reaching across the table, “you’ve got something on your face.” He placed his hand under Mao Mao’s chin and wiped a crumb from just above his lips with his thumb.

Badgerclops placed his hand under Mao Mao’s chin, cradling his head. He tilted Mao Mao’s face up towards him, looking into his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this ever since I first saw that cute face.” He pressed his thumb against Mao Mao’s lips, slipping it into his mouth. The thick claw pressed down on his tongue, filling his mouth. Badgerclops pulled it out a moment later, saliva trailing from its tip. Mao Mao’s mouth hung open, his breathing hot and heavy. “You love this, don’t you, kitten?” Badgerclops pushed the index finger of his other hand in, prodding and exploring every inch of Mao Mao’s mouth. He slid it in and out, again and again, pressing on Mao Mao’s tongue, invading him like it was nothing-

Mao Mao moaned. Loudly.

Badgerclops’s eye shot open. Mao Mao gasped, pulling back from Badgerclops’s touch and covering his mouth. He blushed all the way up to his ears. “I, I, uh…” He glanced around the room frantically. There had to be something! Some way out of this!

“You had a wet dream,” Badgerclops realized, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He started to laugh. “Holy shit, you had a sex dream about me!” He was shaking with laughter. “Wait wait wait, let me guess. Did I… did I call you ‘kitten’?”

Mao Mao’s blush deepened. He hid his face even though he knew it would give him away. He just didn’t want to be seen.

“I KNEW IT!” Badgerclops was overcome with the laughing fit. He hunched over the table, pounding its surface. Mao Mao was furious, and embarrassed, and he needed to leave immediately and never come back.

“Fine! Shut up! I’m leaving!” He stormed out the door and hid himself behind their HQ, too embarrassed to be seen by anyone else ever again.

#maomaoctober #mmhoph #mao mao: heroes of pure heart #mao mao #badgermao #maoclops #mao mao heroes of pure heart

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jj-lives · 5 years

Text

Inktober - Bait

I know I am a day behind in this, I am going to try to vcatch up tomorrow. Plus there was a lot of hype yesterday that I never did get this quite finished.

--------------------

"This is ridiculous."

"No, it's not." Yang grabbed hold of Ruby's collar before she could make her escape. "If you want a ride home this is payment."

Ruby swatted Yang's hands away to free herself. "I'll walk."

“We are miles from home.” Yang pointed out.

“I don’t care.”

“It’s cold out.”

“I have my warm hoodie.”

“It’s raining.” Yang tried one last time. Ruby started backtracking to the exit so Yang hurried to keep up.

“This was a stupid idea and I can’t believe I almost agreed to it.”

To be honest, Yang didn’t know why Ruby played along for as long as she did. There was very little in it for her and it did require her to kind of deceive one of her friends.

“You didn’t almost agree to it. You totally agreed to it and you can’t just back out now that we’re here.” Reaching out she wrapped her hand firmly around Ruby’s wrist. With her feet planted the smaller girl could do nothing but halt her own steps. “Please Ruby.”

“I-”

“Ruby?”

They turned to find the owner of the voice. Both plastered surprised looks on their faces even though they knew very well that Blake was going to be here.

“B-Blake!” Ruby asked in feigned surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Blake trotted the dozen or so steps between them, easily squeezing between the other shoppers in her way. Yang watched amazed. If she'd tried to get through that crowd at the same speed she would have had to knock half the people over in her rush, but none of the other shoppers seemed to even notice when Blake moulded herself around the large group.

"I was just about to ask you the same." Blake said as she stepped forward to embrace Ruby quickly. A cursory smile was spared in Yang's direction; a polite gesture Yang appreciated but still she couldn't help but feel jealousy at wanting the same greeting as her sister. "Didn't…" Blake's brow dropped and the right corner of her mouth tightened into a firm line. "I could have sworn I told both you and Weiss I was coming here today. I swear I mentioned needing to get things for my mom because she's coming to visit this weekend." Amber orbs darted between them both suspiciously. "In fact, I remember mentioning it because Weiss suggested one of the tea shops here."

"Are you sure I was there? I don't remember-"

"Yes. You and her argued about its location." Blake lifted her arm and Yang noticed the small bag for the first time. "By the way, Weiss was correct. It was on the second floor not the third."

"Damn it. Don't tell her she was right. She will never let me live it down and I was so sure it was on the third-"

Yang cut Ruby off with a sharp elbow to her side. Blake's eyes narrowed further and Yang's mind rushed to find an excuse for Ruby's weird behavior. Her sister, she was finding, was a terrible actress.

"We should hurry if you want to make your appointment, Ruby."

"Appointment?"

It took all of her willpower to stop herself from audibly groaning. They had rehearsed this in the car ride over here.

"Yeah, your haircut." Yang emphasized.

"Oh… Oh!" Ruby bobbed her head in agreement. "Yes, we should hurry."

"Funny you didn't mention a hair appointment when I told you of my plans today." Blake pressed.

Yang realized this girl wasn't one to let things slide. She definitely liked to get to the bottom of things. Yang filed that information away as she had a feeling these 'accidental' run ins were not going to work very well.

“It was all last minute, Ruby mentioned something last night about her hair getting too long and wanting a change of colour maybe so I booked her an appointment early this morning." Yang spoke up before Ruby could make the situation worse. “My gift to her.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, Yang.” Blake responded, her bearing starting to relax.

“Yeah, Yang is an angel.” Ruby piped up. “We should get going sis.”

“Oh, I was just going to wander around while you were busy. Sitting in a waiting area isn’t my idea of a good time. Besides, if I go near a hair salon I always have stylists jumping out at me. My hair does not need taming.”

“I like your hair.”

Ruby rolled her eyes but Yang felt her stomach flutter at the compliment.

“Thank you.”

There was an awkwardness surrounding them. The interaction seemed too short to say their goodbyes but at the same time they knew that was coming. Ruby was the first to break the silence.

“Well, I’ll catch you later Blake.” They embraced once again before Ruby tilted her head in Yang’s direction. “I’ll message you when I am done so we can meet back up?”

“Sounds good.”

Rooted on the spot, they both watched Ruby’s retreating form.

“I- I should really get going, I have to get home before Mom shows up.”

Yang really did not want Blake to go so soon. That was the purpose in coming here after all. There was just this completely inexplicable magnetism between her and Blake. The girl was beautiful sure, but that wasn't the only thing attracting Yang to her. Ruby had described Blake as cute once, but Yang would hear none of it. Yes Blake was cute, but she was also beautiful, charming, funny. She had a quick wit that could probably rival her own, and her laugh… Yang had never heard anything so pretty as the one rare time she’d heard Blake laugh. They’d not spoken much, just scattered sentences in between Ruby coming and going as she dragged Blake or Weiss or both hurriedly in her wake, The small interactions became precious to her and she just kept feeling this pull to get to know more about her. She couldn’t explain it and it was nearly killing Yang to not know if Blake felt it too. She didn’t enjoy feeling like a crazy stalker. She didn’t like using her sister as bait to try to get a few minutes in the same space as Blake.

“How much time do you have?” Yang asked, if only to prolong their time together.

Blake’s eyes darted to her watch. “Only four hours.” She heaved a heavy sigh as her attention was drawn back to the crowds. Looking passed the strangers to the shops beyond. She was looking for something and any second now she would leave her. “That’s plenty of time!” Yang exclaimed trying to feel the positivity she was trying to portray.

“Not when the bus takes over an hour to get to my apartment.” Blake huffed. “I really do need to get going. I’m sorry Yang.”

“For what?” Feeling torn between confusion at the apology and hopeful that Blake maybe did want to spend more time with her. Yang waited for an answer.

“It just feels like I’m always being dragged away.” Blake smiled before rolling her eyes playfully. “I love your sister, but she is a whirlwind to hang out with sometimes. It just feels like I know you, which is weird.”

“Okay…”

“Sorry.” She apologized again. “Ruby just speaks about you a lot, I think. So it kind of feels like I know you, but I don’t think we’ve ever had a proper conversation before.”

“I guess I feel the same way.” Yang smiled reaching to run her fingers through her hair nervously. She did know a lot about Blake through Ruby, but there was so much more she wanted to know. The kind of things you can only know from spending time with someone. The silence engulfed them once more and Yang had an unsettling feeling that if the other were to break the silence that would be the end of… something.

“If you would like, I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift home so you don’t have to waste time with the bus.”

“I live the opposite way of your guys’ place.”

Yang could tell she was only mentioning for clarification. She hoped she didn’t imagine the relief her offer seemed to give Blake.

"I insist. I'd feel bad not giving you a lift. I mean, because you're one of Ruby's best friends."

"Do you want to accompany me to the few shops I have to go to?" Blake asked. Her smile widened a fraction before disappearing. Yang missed it instantly. "Or I could just meet you somewhere after if you had your own-"

"I would love to escort you." Yang cut her off. Blake seemed uncomfortable, but Yang didn't know her well enough yet to tell if her skittish eyes and jittery stance meant she was nervous or distressed at Yang's offered company.

But when Blake stepped forward Yang automatically fell in stride beside her.

This was definitely worth all of Ruby's complaints and the money she was going to be out for Ruby's new hair.

She had an hour of Blake's company. And she was blessed with being able to get some of that time alone with her.

"Do you like frozen yogurt?"

Yang nodded without quite having processed Blake's words. She scolded herself for being so caught up in her head instead of paying attention to the girl she went through all this trouble for.

"My treat!" Blake exclaimed, bounding over to the kiosk in the middle of the food court. "What's your favourite flavour?"

"I like my flavors bold."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Blake teased.

Yang rolled her eyes and began to relax. Working herself up wasn't going to give Blake a good impression of her.

"I tend to mix the strong fruit flavours."

"Hmmm, okay. I'll be right back."

"What are you getting me?" Yang shouted after her.

Blake spun around at her words. She smiled while still maintaining her retreating momentum.

"I like a little mystery. Don't you?" She laughed before turning around to place their order with the vendor.

Yang shook her head in disbelief. The quiet bookworm image she'd had of Blake shattered in her mind. Things just got a whole lot more interesting.

#inktober #day 3 bait #bumbleby #my writing

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bazzybelle · 5 years

Text

Carry On Countdown - Day Seven

Notes: Right... confession time.. So, I posted this fic yesterday... But, I’ve been having a really difficult mental health week (lots of self-doubt, self-isolation, and weeping) and it all came to a head last night when I spiraled and deleted this story (my depression/anxiety/Imposter Syndrome demon caught up to me, I guess). I was also close to deleting all my other fics and potentially closing my account, but @fight-surrender and my amazing husband talked me down from the ledge so to speak. It was actually their support, along with the amazing kindness of @giishu that convinced me to repost my story... so here it is.

Lyrics are inspired by “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by The Beatles. However, I was inspired by the version from “Across The Universe”, sung by T.V. Carpio (Such a great movie and soundtrack).

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for their writing support and amazing beta-reads.

Also, this is the last story until the Angst prompt... I’m also gonna take it easy with my writing. Going back into it after 8 years of numbness and denying my passion hasn’t been easy and it’s beginning to take its toll on me. I have so many ideas, but I want to feel well enough in my head to be able to write them properly (in case you haven’t noticed, I like writing about healing and hopeful futures... kinda hard to do that if you’re spiraling). I’ve got a few more stories already prepared for the Countdown, but I’m not making any promises on writing for other prompts.

TW: Extremely minimal (like blink and you’ll miss it) reference to drugs.

Day 7 Prompt: WLW

Title: I Wanna Hold Your Hand

________________________________________________________________

Please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand. Now, let me hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand.

FIONA

The music here is bloody terrible.

So’s the alcohol. But what else can I expect from a dingy little pub in this dodgy area of the city? Besides, it isn’t the alcohol I’m here for, which is a shock, considering how much of it I drink.

Nor am I here for this horrid music. I look at the stage and a skinny little whelp is crooning a pathetic rendition of a Pink Floyd song. Kid can’t be older than 18, of course he’s singing a Floyd song. I swear, you listen to Dark Side of The Moon one time, and suddenly you think you know everything there is to know about music.

Good Lord… he’s doing a Floyd medley. News flash, boyo, you cannot transition from Wish You Were Here to Another Brick in The Wall without raising a few eyebrows.

He isn’t a bad looking bloke though. Shaggy brown hair, styled so it’s away from his eyes. He’s got a bit of a long, oval-shaped face, a little gaunt, but not too much. He reminds me of someone… Ah… George Harrison! He’s got a bit of a George Harrison vibe, I reckon. A part of me wants to snap a photo of him and ask Baz if he’d fancy him, but the last time I did that, he chewed my ear off for a week.

Dramatic little shit. I’m only trying to help. He’s so edgy all the time. Baz is about to head into his final year at Watford and honestly, he needs to let loose and have a little fun, before the pressures of being a Pitch crushes him…

Maybe I’m being the dramatic shit...

I leave George Harrison to his crooning (Christ, he’s moved onto Money. Does he only know the popular Floyd songs? Tosser), and direct myself to the bar. The person I’m here to see greets me with a wide, toothy smile.

“Well well, look who it is. How are you, love?” bellows Shannon Ryan (Shan for short). Shan is the annoyingly vivacious proprietor of the Golden Griffin Pub and Inn. She is all hair (bright, thick, ginger-red, with a generous amount of blond and strawberry-blond highlights, that falls in tight ringlets down her back) and little to no filter. She’s the kind of person that can decide in an instant if she’ll offer you a free pint, or if she’ll drag your sorry arse onto the curb. Most of the time, she’ll offer you the pint and a wink of her dark brown eyes.

I give her a half smile and take a seat in front of her. Shan pours me a glass of Chivas (Bless her, she knows I love the stuff) and leans her elbows on the counter. I salute her and nod at George Harrison.

“Heads up Shan, if your lad starts playing Comfortably Numb, I may have to murder him with his own guitar.”

Shan playfully punches my shoulder. Normally, I’d retaliate with a knife to the throat, but I’m not nearly so… angry when Shan’s around. I can relax around her and allow myself to be a little playful.

“Aw, come on now Prue, Mickey’s not that bad. A little rough around the edg-” She starts to laugh, because George Harrison’s begun to sing Comfortably Numb and I begin to crack my knuckles. Shan grabs my hands and gives them a pat. “Alright, very rough around the edges, but he’s a sweet kid.”

I met Shannon about 4 months ago. It was during one of my lower points. I had been on a wild bender, drinking, smoking up, everything. At some point, I lost all recollection of where I was and what was happening. I still don’t know how long I’d been out of my mind at that point, but I somehow ended up at Shan’s pub, trashed out and rambling nonsense. Shan took one look at me and she decided that she would give me a room and a bed, instead of throwing me out (a horrible decision, really). I woke up in an unknown room, in an unknown bed with her knocking on the door.

I nearly killed her.

Shan managed to calm me down and gave me some breakfast. Fat greasy bangers, perfectly poached eggs, fried tomatoes and back bacon. She had informed me that I had been out for quite a while. I remember feeling like a numpty had taken a beating to my head. She had offered to let me stay there so that I could recover from whatever was causing me distress. Instead of taking the hint and staying there, I gathered my belongings while she was gone and slipped out. That would have been the end of it, but I had returned a few days later to pay for my room and board. Shan refused to take my money, and instead asked that I pay her back by coming to see her from time to time. Originally, I was only supposed to come see her until the end of the month… But here we are, four months later and I still find myself wanting to come see her.

Shan doesn’t know my real name (She knows me by my middle name, Prudence… I swear my family gets its kicks from naming their offspring ridiculous names), nor that I am a magician from a long line of magical aristocracy. She does not know that I am embroiled in the middle of a war that threatens to rip my world and my family apart. Maybe that sense of escapism is why I keep coming back here, why I keep flirting with this Normal pub owner.

I turn back to her now. She is cleaning some of the dirty glasses that have been left on the bar counter. It’s a quiet evening tonight, not many patrons at the pub. Shan’s pub can gain a small gathering during the weekends, mostly young folks out on a crawl. Some tend to stay here on account of the atmosphere, and Shan’s personality. Tonight’s one of the quieter nights. I blame George Harrison mucking it up on the microphone.

“Where do you find these characters, Shan?”

“Beats me. They sometimes just show up needing a spot. Mick’s been tossed out from his home, poor child. I give him a room, he works the bar. It all works out.”

Shan sometimes uses her rooms to shelter people who may need a place to stay. I wasn’t a special case for her. Any misfit or vagabond has a place to stay at Shan’s. I suppose that explains George Harrison, who has just finished his set and has exited the stage, thank Merlin for that. She’s now turned on her online music playlist, an eclectic mix of punk, classic rock, and current indie songs. It makes no bloody sense, but the patrons aren’t mad about it.

“You’re too generous Shan.” She rolls her eyes and proceeds to serve some other patrons who have been waiting for her. Once George Harrison arrives behind the counter, she sends him off to prepare orders while she turns back to me.

“And you, my dear friend, are far too cold. What brings you here tonight? Chasing one of your hoodlums, again?”

With the war brewing between the Old Families and the Mage, I have been tracking down members of the magical community who have been shunned and cast away by the Mage and his reforms. The Old Families believed that we could find some support amongst the masses who’ve been mistreated by Davy and his band of Merry Men. If I’m in the area, I’ll stop by the pub for a quick drink and a chat.

Like I said, it’s been happening more often than not.

Today is different. I am not here because I’m in the area. I felt the need to be here. Maybe it’s the bitter heat of August in London; Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s August 13th, the thirteenth anniversary (plus a day) of my sister’s death that brings me here. Normally, I’d be home, drinking myself into a stupor until enough time has passed where I don’t feel the grief anymore. I never allow myself to drink on the actual day of her death, because I’m too busy spending the day with Basil and Malcolm (Basil mostly), making sure that they’ve kept their heads in one place. I look out for my nephew first and once the day has passed, I go home and begin my process of drinking and mourning.

For some reason, I didn’t want to be home alone today. I don’t know what came over me, but I felt I needed to be here, at Shan’s pub. But I’ll never tell her that. So instead I put on my classic Pitch smooth face and smile slyly at her.

“Who says I need a reason to be here? Maybe I just decided to come over.” Shan rolls her eyes at me. She faces me and leans over the counter, inches from my face. I have to look away, in case she notices the small blush creeping over my cheeks. I take another sip of my Chivas before looking at her once more. I tilt my head at her and smile. She places her hand on mine and pushes it down, until the glass is back on the counter.

“You’ve always got a reason, Prue. You don’t allow yourself to do anything simply because you want to.” Now, I roll my eyes at her. I down the remainder of my Chivas and slam the glass back down on the counter. I cross my arms over my chest and pull myself back from the counter.

“Oh? And what exactly do I want?”

Shan also steps back from the counter. She’s got her hands on her hips and shrugs at me. She takes the bottle of Chivas and pours me another glass.

“I am not nearly qualified enough to untangle the mess in your mind, Prue. I can only offer a listening ear and a reasonable amount of alcohol.” She leans back against the wall. I stare at her for a minute and take in how she looks in the pub’s dim light. Shan’s got incredibly light skin, but it isn’t entirely pale and the dim lighting in here is showcasing her pretty features. She’s wearing a black tank top under a dark purple vest that cuts just at her waist. She’s got on dark jeans and a light gold studded belt. Shan pulls her hair back into a very high, very messy bun at the top of her head. A few strands still hang loose and frame her face. I draw a shaky breath and take a sip of my scotch. I speak softly, more to the glass than to her.

“My sister died. Yesterday has been 13 years since she died.” Shan relaxes her posture and approaches me again. I don’t shift my position at all. If she thinks she can get me to open up more than that, she’s wrong. I won’t come undone by a pretty girl with bright red hair.

“You don’t want to be alone then?” Shan reaches for my hand. I don’t let her take it. I’m still focusing on my drink and the patterns of the wood grains on the counter.

“I am perfectly fine to be alone Shan! I’ve been alone for many years, what’s another one?” I straighten my back even further, attempting to close off my walls. They had been slowly coming down as I spend more time with Shan, but thinking about yesterday, about Tasha, about the losses in my life, have caused me to build them back up with a more reinforced metal.

Now, I’m here again, in front of Shannon, and the metal around my heart is starting to melt again. What power does this Normal have over me that she can make me feel this way? Shan exits from her side of the bar and she comes to sit down next to me. I want to turn away from her, but I can’t find it in me to do so. I’m running my fingers along the rim of the glass when I feel her tough, guitar-calloused hand lay on top of mine. I refuse to look her in the eyes. She gently places my hand on the counter and turns it over. I finally look at her as she clasps her hand in mine.

“What if you didn’t have to be alone?” Her deep brown eyes are staring right into my grey ones. I can feel my heartbeat beginning to pick up. My breathing becomes a little erratic. I have not felt this in such a long time. Not since my final year at Watford. Not since I had my heartbroken into pieces and decided to shut it down forever. I start to pull my hand away, but Shan holds it tight. I frown at her and glare at her a little bit.

“People like me are meant to be alone.” I try to make my voice sound icy and intimidating. But, Merlin help me, it sounds breathless, like I’m chocking it out. I take a sharp inhale of breath through my nose. Shan, the fool that she is, reaches over and grabs my other hand, she gently turns my body towards her and leans a little closer to me. She speaks in a soft and calm voice. I almost miss what she says because of the music in the background.

“You don’t have to be alone.”

She leans in closer to me. I feel a small flutter in the pit of my stomach. I want to lean into her as well, but something stops me. I can’t. I can’t. Not again. Never again. I pull away from her and jump out of my seat. I ignore the confused and saddened look on Shan’s face and I fumble in my bag for my wallet.

“I have to go.”

Shan grabs my arm and tries to look at me again. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me coming undone. I will not let another person into my heart only for them to destroy it again. I can’t handle more pain and misery.

“Wait… Prue I-” She’s going to beg me to stay, I don’t give her a chance to finish.

“Thank you, Shannon. I’ll see you soon.” I pull out some notes and slam them onto the counter. I yank my arm away from Shan’s grasp and stalk out of the pub, leaving her sorrowful brown eyes behind me.

I am meant to be alone. I don’t need anyone, especially not some nobody Normal. Even if the same nobody Normal is currently holding a key to my heart. I go home, fully intent on drinking my conflicting feelings away.

________

Six weeks.

Basil’s been missing for six weeks and I haven’t had any luck in finding him.

I have tried every bloody spell I could think of. I have poured over every single one of Natasha’s old books in that blasted library. I have even tried to contact some of the undesirables in my midst to see if any of them knew anything. None of them could tell me any information. Even though I threatened and screamed and even cast spells to force them to give me any information, none of them had any information to give me.

I was losing my mind. I wanted nothing more to march into Watford myself and threaten the bloody Mage himself, or even that stupid snivelling little magling, Simon Snow. The only thing preventing me from torching the damn school was the fact that The Mage knew exactly where Baz was and he could decide to retaliate by hurting or even killing him. He was not above murder, the bastard.

The latest call we got from the numpties had demanded wands from us. They must have been bloody joking. Malcolm, the fool, was already looking for spare wands. I called him a spineless idiot, and if he couldn’t see that this wasn’t about a simple ransom, well then he really was more feebleminded than I thought. I told him that my sister scraped the bottom of the barrel when she married a Grimm and stomped out of the manor.

The bloody numpties were holding him near some water, so I drew up a map of potential spots where he could be hidden. I was not going to rest until I searched each and every one, no matter how long that took.

I now find myself walking down a familiar dodgy street, towards a familiar pub. I have not been back since Shan grabbed my hand and I almost allowed her a piece of me. I decided that I would not go back there and risk anything more happening between Shan and myself. To go back would mean I would have to talk about what almost happened, and to do that would mean I would have to either lie to her or give into my feelings, neither option really appealing to me. Still, I need to start a fight. I need to yell at something and punch something. And the thought of Shannon throwing me out of her pub and her life because I caused a fight with her patrons is exactly what I need to revitalize myself on this search mission.

I storm into the establishment and see a few confused clientele staring at me. I should pick out which unfortunate character will be my target, but my eyes wander to the bar. I want Shan to be watching.

She isn’t there. But her pathetic little ward is. I march to the bar and before the weasel says anything, I grab his shirt sleeve and pull him over the bar counter. I roughly toss him to the floor. The boy yelps in surprise and lifts his hands up to protect his face. I am not done yet. I am about to lift him up, when someone grabs my arm. I spin around and I’m about to deck them, when I see her deep brown eyes.

“PRUE! That’s enough!” Shan looks absolutely murderous with rage. I have never seen that look on her face before. I give her a cold hard stare and sneer at her.

“Get. Your. Bloody. Hands. OFF. ME!” Shan returns my stare with a scowl of her own. She keeps her hand secured on my jacket and begins to drag me outside.

“We’re going outside, NOW!”

Well that was fast. I didn’t even get to have any fun.

Shan shoves me outside and practically tosses me onto the floor. I am astounded by the strength she has, considering just how skinny she is. But she does this for a living. She’s had to toss out larger folks than myself. I dust off my jacket and straighten out my jeans before turning to Shan, who is still wearing a livid look on her face. Her hair, although braided, has a frizzy halo that surrounds it. I already regret coming here.

“I like you, Prue. But I will not have you starting fights in my pub! Either you tell me what’s gotten into you, or you can kindly fuck off!” She points an accusing finger at me and then out towards the street. I should be honest with her, but I have a knack for self-destruction, so I push my luck.

“Oh fuck off Shan!” She steps back, shocked at first by my demeanor. But she then shakes her head and scoffs. She steps up to me and responds with a coldness of her own.

“If you insist! But this whole tough bitch attitude is getting bloody exhausting! Call me once you’ve calmed yourself” she says as she begins to walk away. I want to let her go back. I want to watch her leave and never see her again. But my damn head won’t let her leave. I call out before I have a chance to stop myself.

“My nephew’s missing...” Shan stops in her tracks. She turns to me, her furious face already changed to one of deep concern. “He’s been missing for nearly 6 weeks and I’m going out of my bloody mind!”

She approaches me cautiously. I know she is still very angry with me and my actions. She asks me smoothly, “Have they demanded a ransom?” Shan knows well enough to not ask about law enforcement. With the type of charges she takes in, the reality is that law enforcement will typically make matters worse.

I roll my eyes and answer her. “We don’t pay ransoms in my family!”

Shan stares incredulously at me, “Are you daft? I don’t know what kind of business you’re running Prudence, but I think the life of your nephew is worth a ransom payment, yeah?”

“This isn’t about a ransom, Shannon! It’s something more! Oh forget it! I’m wasting time, I could be using to search under bridges or in sewers!” This was a mistake. I never should have come here. I turn my back to Shan and start to walk away.

“Under bridges?” She asks me. I stop and turn back to her.

“The kidnappers sounded like they were near running water when they called. Which, considering this bloody city, could be fucking anywhere!”

“Christ…” Shan starts to shake her head. She put her hand to her face, as if she was starting to ponder something. It is enough for me to march right back up to her.

“What is it!?”

“I thought he was being batty…” Shan delivers that line in such a thoughtful way that I almost want to be gentle with her.

Almost. But Basil is missing and this is the first tiny morsel of a clue that I have had for six weeks. So I grab Shan’s shoulders and press her further.

“Who was?! What do you know Shan!?” She frowns at me and shrugs me off.

“Nothing, Prue! I volunteer at one of the homeless shelters in the city and one of our regulars was going on about how one of his favourite sleeping spots near the river was overrun with boulders. It looked like someone was trying to hide something there. The man’s a little mad. He claimed that some of the boulders were moving.”

Moving boulders?! Bloody fucking hell! That’s it! That’s fucking it! Six weeks, I’ve been going mad trying to find Basil, and all this time, the one place I should have been looking was amongst the vagabonds and the homeless. Christ, go figure I’d find my most important clue with Shannon fucking Ryan.

“Where is he now!!?” I demand of her. Maybe a little too harshly. I really couldn't care less if I hurt Shan’s feelings anymore. I need to find this drifter as soon as I can.

“Prue! You can’t be-” Shan tries to calm me down, but I am not having it. I am so close to bringing my nephew home, I am not stopping now. I get up to her face and nearly shout at her.

“You tell me where he is now, Shannon, or I swear to Christ…” Shan shakes her head at me, but she caves in and sighs at me.

“You are a lunatic, Prudence. But he’s most likely at Whitechapel. He’s been spending most of his time th- Prue!” I’m already walking away. I have all the information I need.

“I’ll see you later, Shan.” I say to her. Maybe if I survive this, I’ll come back and apologize for being a proper psychopath towards her. Maybe she’ll forgive me. For now, I have more important matters to attend to.

“Prue! Come back! You can’t do this alone!”

That’s where you’re wrong Shannon. I’ve had to do everything on my own. It’s what I’m best at. I can still hear her shouting into the night, even though I am far from the pub at this point.

“PRUDENCE!”

________

I am once more, back at the Golden Griffin. The pub has just closed for the night, but I know that Shan is still inside. She usually stays behind a few hours after closing time in order to clean up the place. I stand right in front of the door, taking a few moments to decide if I want to knock on her door, or if I should leave. I lift my fist to the window on the door. I’m about to knock when Shan’s head pops up from the side of the door. She looks surprised to see me at first, then… is that relief? She whips the door opened and pulls me inside.

“Prudence…” she whispers to me. She holds my hand in hers. Merlin, what is she doing to me? I let go of her hand and stuff my hands into my jacket pockets. I clear my throat and start to talk.

“He was alive. I found him in time.”

“Your nephew. I’m so relieved to hear that.” She’s got her hand over her heart and she sighs in relief. Has she truly been worried this whole time?

I feel guilty for not coming back sooner. But I had to make sure Baz was fine and then well, I wanted to start planning retribution for this attack on my family. I hadn’t realized that it was mid-November and I still had not gone to see Shan.

And so, here I am. At 2AM on a Tuesday. At this pub once more, in front of this Normal. This Normal who is nobody important, from a nobody family. Yet, all I’m hoping is that she can forgive me for my foolishness.

“You said I couldn’t do it alone. I did it alone. I found him, I got him back. I didn’t need anyone.” I just have to antagonize her, don’t I? I am a Pitch after all. Shan shakes her head, like she was ready for this to begin with an argument.

“I’m happy for you Prue. Truly, I am.” She responds with an icy sarcasm. Her arms are crossed and she is leaning away from me. She isn’t up for having a go at me. I take a half-step towards her and offer an olive branch.

“My real name’s Fiona. Fiona Pitch.” Shan drops her hands to her hips. She gives me a cold stare and shakes her head. She then raises her hands slightly only to cross them again. She’s upset and I can’t say I blame her. I’ve only been lying to her for several months.

“Fiona. Christ… Alright…”

“Prudence is my middle name. I didn’t know you.” I offer her an explanation. She rolls her eyes at that and continues to stare at me.

“Fine, Fiona. What do you want from me?” She waves her arms and points to her chest. I furrow my eyebrows. I don’t know how to answer her question. I also don’t like how she calls me Fiona with disdain in her voice. As if she’s talking to someone she doesn’t know or care for. I suppose I deserve that.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m perfectly fine to be on my own.” I take another half-step towards her.

“What do you want from me, Fiona?” She asks me again. She is challenging me. Her voice, while still severe, is more inquisitive. She wants me to answer her, to let her in. To allow her another piece of me.

I am not ready to answer her. Instead I continue to fight her and my own feelings.

“I do not want another person coming into my life only to destroy it again!” I turn my head away from her as I expose a tiny piece of myself. Shan now steps forward. She is a breath away from me now. I want to touch her hair, her face, her hands.

“What do you want from me, Fiona?” Her voice has now lost its edge, its icy tone. She is softer now, asking me to trust her. She reaches for my hand. I let her take it. I look down at our clasped hands, and I remember the last time she did this. I’m going to try and not run away again.

“But then you held my hand… You held my hand. And you told me I didn’t have to be alone!”

“I did.” She says so sincerely.

“And you helped me find my nephew.” I try to divert the conversation. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Merlin help me, I am not ready for this.

“I can’t take credit for that.” One of her hands has reached up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You helped me.”

“What do you want from me Fi-” She asks one last time. I feel her breath on my face. I give in.

This time, I am ready to answer her.

I lean forward and kiss her. Her lips feel so soft, if a little chapped. Shan responds and returns my kiss. One of my hands has moved to the back of her head. I feel her thick soft curls in my hand. She has gripped my face in her hands. I feel her tilt her head and start softly nibbling on my bottom lip. I respond by lightly running my tongue over her teeth. I’ve wanted this for so long. Merlin knows why I’ve been denying it to myself. Our kiss breaks apart and Shan leans her head on the crook of my neck.

“You. I want you, Shannon. Ever since you grabbed my hand and threw my world into bloody turmoil!” I whisper into her hair. She pulls away from me and looks at me as if I’m the most insane person in the world. She wouldn’t be wrong to assume that. I’m pretty sure there is a history of insanity within my family.

“Well fuck, Prue… All you had to do was ask. But instead you ran away and acted like a bloody maniac. You could have talked to me, you know!” She shakes me lightly.

“I bloody well could not!” I look away from her and shake my head. She wouldn’t understand. I am not the type of person who stands at the doorstep of a lover begging them to take them back or to love them. Even if I was, Shan’s life is wholesome and uncomplicated. All I am is one complication after another. She doesn’t need that in her life.

“Why not? Help me understand you, Prue.” She’s grabbed my face again and she’s staring me down. Merlin help me, in the light, her eyes look like pools of honey. I grab her wrists tight.

“I’m a bloody mess, Shan. I have no direction. I’m a disgrace to my family. A disgrace to my name.” Shan smiles at me. She runs her hands through my hair and I sigh. I’m a fucking mess. If my sister could see me now, she’d be so fucking disappointed.

“You don’t have to be FIONA PITCH with me.” I snort sarcastically as she says my name with a snooty accent. “With me, you can be Prue. I like Prue a whole lot. She’s wild. She’s intense, but she’s got a good heart. She’s bloody gorgeous to.” With that, she grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me into another deep kiss. My hands trail down to her hips and hold her in place. My thumbs tuck inside the hem of her jeans and run across her skin. It feels so soft. So perfect. We pull away again and I laugh a little.

“I can’t promise that I won’t run away or that I won’t be a complete maniac.”

“I can’t promise that I won’t kick your arse for being completely daft!” Shan flicks my white streak.

“This could be a bloody disaster…”

“Or not... Just don’t threaten my bartender again, or I may have to kill you.” She gives me a playfully wink, but I know she’s dead serious. I respond with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of my head.

“I’d like to see you try.”

With that, Shan cocks a half smile at me. She takes me by the hand and leads me away from the pub towards the stairs that lead to the Inn. She closes the lights as we walk up the stairs.

I am not ready to give my heart to another person who could very well break it. But with Shan, I’m willing to risk it.

Normal life be damned.

And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide.

#carry on countdown #coc 2019 #wlw #repost #because i'm a mess #fiona pitch #badass fiona #next day repost #i won't delete it this time #carry on #wayward son #no spoilers here #my writing #fanfic #piss off demon #I'm still here and I'm still fighting

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